


The Alliance

by AMJohnson0518



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Marriage Contracts, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Powerful Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMJohnson0518/pseuds/AMJohnson0518
Summary: Their marriage was to bring the Seven Realms of Europe together into a new age of peace and prosperity after the world falls into nuclear despair. But will their union foster more than just a political alliance?  Conquest, treachery, and alliances are the only way to survive in this new world order, where only the strongest survive the game. When there is no one left to trust, can they learn to trust each other? Slightly AU. Slow-Burn Dramione. EWE, forced marriage bond. Written in the format of a sweeping epic fantasy novel, set in a modern, but post-apocalyptic Europe.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This story is rated “M” for a reason” - it will include depictions of sex, violence, murder, deception, and all-around debauchery. Nothing good happens when the world as we know it ends, am I right? I take some liberties with the extent to which magic can produce food and water - I promise I will explain everything fully in the story. Obviously, I do not own any of these characters, nor any part of J.K. Rowling’s world. 
> 
> Author’s Note: I am trying something outside of my comfort zone. The first few chapters will include HEAVY world-building and descriptions of the political climate as I build the story, in the style of an epic fantasy. This will make it feel slow for the first two chapters, and for that, I apologize. This is going to have all that sexy Dramione romance that we love so much. I’m so excited to see what you all think! There will be updates monthly. I AM LOOKING FOR BETA AND ALPHA READERS - Please PM me if you are interested. As always, constructive criticism and comments are cherished and welcome.

**Prologue**

 

_ July, 2006 _

 

The large parlor room in the Malfoy Manor had bore witness to some of the worst conversations in modern wizarding history. If the walls could talk, Draco thought bitterly, these would have a wealth of evil to spill that was greater than the entirety of the Malfoy fortune.    
  
“They mean to attack here, as well at the Realm of the Order,” the young werewolf growled out in a tone far too gleeful for Draco to trust. Deep grey eyes snapped up to assess the scene, though the Malfoy heir’s weariness was not betrayed by his stony features.   


“Anything else?” Lucius drawled cautiously at the spy before him.  Usually, as a principle, the Malfoy men did not trust traitors; loyalty was one of the most important characteristics a person could uphold, as long as self-preservation was kept in mind, of course.    
  
But in this crumbling world, the principles of old did not have a place any longer.   


“Potter’s Mudblood… Fenrir wants Hermione Granger,” the disheveled wolf grinned as he said the woman’s name. “Before the start of the next war, Fenrir and all the leaders of the Realm of the Highlands mean to have her captured and delivered to Scotland. Fenrir is looking for more pups.”

Draco’s heart seized in his chest upon hearing Hermione’s name roll off the werewolf’s tongue like sticky poison, and his eyes snapped to attention, carefully reading both his father and their spy. He felt his blood chill instantly, and he could do nothing to stop the shiver that coursed up his spine.  _ No no no…  _ his mind screamed silently. 

Lucius dragged one of his pale, bony fingers across his face. “Why would they want her, specifically?” Lucius questioned slowly. 

The werewolf barked out a laugh, showing his yellowing canines. “She owes many of us,” he said, roughly pulling down the top of his shirt to reveal a deep, purple scar that gnarled in thick ropes across his chest. “Besides, the bloodline could use a new breeder, and who better than the most powerful half breed the world has ever seen?” 

Lucius rolled his eyes at the man’s predictability and lack of intelligence. “You’re a half breed, she’s merely an abomination.” 

“To you perhaps. But there are those in the Realm of the Order who would rush blindly into war to rescue her. Their Gryffindor sensibilities make them weak to Fenrir’s plans. Ultimately, if nothing changes, your Realm and the Realm of the Order will fall and Fenrir and the muggle army will win.”  At the sight of Lucius's Skeptical frown, the werewolf sighed heavily. “You deny her power, which is a mistake, Lucius. I hear she is the only reason the Realm of the Order is still standing. Without her guidance, they are weak.” 

“When are they planning the attack?” Draco finally found his voice again, and cut his father off before he could say something else unsavory about Hermione’s blood status. 

“In four months time, during the blood moon, when Fenrir and his army will be at their strongest.”

Draco stilled. If they planned on taking Hermione before the start of the war, his time to save her was growing impossibly limited. 

“Very well,” Lucius said in his bored tone and Draco could tell he refused to fully believe in the power of a mudblood. The patriarch of the Malfoy family was so clever, and yet his prejudice, as it had always been, would be his downfall. 

Draco stood up, removing his wand from his black robes. “We thank you for your continued assistance. As was our agreement, you will be generously compensated for your information.”

The two men stood, and Draco conjured a bag overflowing with food and gold, two of the most valuable resources left on the ruins of the planet. The werewolf was led out of the parlor by a house elf. Draco’s body was still rigid, and he refused to relax; each thin coil of muscle was ever braced for impact. 

“We were right to start preparing for war,” Lucius sneered. “The muggles and the creatures banding together,” Lucius shook his head in disgust. “This is problematic, to say the least.” He whispered menacingly. 

Draco nodded numbly in agreement. He was having trouble keeping his mask in place as he remembered the werewolf’s cruel words.  _ Granger was to be bred…  _

“Father, if they attack, we will not be able to outlast them. Even with Drumstang’s assistance, which I'd like to remind you, they may not even provide, we are severely outnumbered against the muggles. Especially with all the weapons, the goblins have been forging for them,” Draco said, displeasure coating his throat as the words were forced out. 

“You are correct,” Lucius sighed. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of their reserve whiskey. “I knew the half-breeds were not to be trusted,” Lucius slurred, and he launched into a tirade about the filth that was the Realm of the Highlands, with all their bastard creatures. 

But, Draco was barely listening to his father’s antiquated words; his focus kept flashing to Hermione’s face, screaming on these very floors, blood pouring from her arms as tears freely trailed down her delicate features. He could not let her be taken. Not again. As she writhed on the floor of the Malfoy Manor, as he stood by and did nothing to save her, as he agonizingly watched, he pleaded with the universe and Merlin that he would do anything to never allow her to feel this type of pain again. 

Much to his surprise, she lived, and he watched from afar as she continued to defy death time after time. But this? This could prove to be too much for anyone, even the brightest witch of their time. Her precious Order would not be able to protect her from this, not in their current situation. The werewolves meant to break her, and Draco knew in his heart he had to do something. 

“Father,” Draco started slowly, for he knew his words had to be said with care, so as not to alert the Malfoy patriarch of his true intentions. With Hermione’s face fresh on his mind,  her pained voice echoing in his ears, he said the words that he hoped would change the course of history and give him his victory in these uncertain times. 

 

_ “I think it’s time we form an alliance.”  _

 

 

 


	2. Welcome to the New Age

**Chapter 1**

**Welcome to the New Age**

 

_ “ _ __ I'm waking up to ash and dust  
__ I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust  
__ I'm breathing in the chemicals…  
_ This is it, the apocalypse.”   _ __  
-Radioactive, Imagine Dragons 

 

* * *

  
  


_ August 1st, 2006 _

 

The Council of the Seven Realms had erupted into a broken chorus of bitter voices for what seemed to be the hundredth time today. With each member shouting across the round table, one would have assumed there were more than merely seven voices in attendance. 

“This is absurd,” Lucius sneered at the wizard in front of him, his usual cold facade cracking to unleash a penetrating scowl. 

“What is absurd is how you believe you can survive for much longer without fresh water. The seers do not see clean rain in our future,” the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt snidely quipped back. He was beyond using his normally calming, diplomatic tones. 

“Then we will take what we need, with or without your permission!” Lucius threatened. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Kingsley shouted back, a small smirk growing on his aging face. “If I remember correctly, Lucius, your Realm of brainless followers are so dwindled in numbers, you couldn’t even defeat the Realm of the Goblins-”

“There is no need to drag us into this! Especially since  _ we  _ are the ones in control of the silver and forge you so desperately need,” A short goblin sitting to Shacklebolt’s left raised his nasally voice in anger, despite his usual hesitance to be apart of any feuding. Tucked away in the deep mines of the Alps, the goblins felt no need to be involved in the goings on of the other realms. Though small in numbers and stature, they controlled what everyone needed, money, forged weapons, and raw minerals; They were happy to oblige the needs of the world...for a price, of course. 

Lucius ignored the goblin, seeing him as nothing more than a lesser breed who happened to make useless weapons for the muggles. Lucius abruptly stood from his seat, and pointed a pale, bony finger at Shacklebolt. “And you? How long do you think you will survive without food? How many children are starving under your watch?” Lucius whispered, his voice sounding more menacing the quieter it became. 

“Why, you arrogant-”

And thus, as often happened during these monthly gatherings, the fighting continued without hope for an end. 

From her spot on the floor directly above them, Hermione huffed out an angry breath. The extendable ear she had been holding fell listlessly against the ground. 

“Any luck?” George whispered from beside her, his stomach letting out a customary grumble that broke through the stillness of the room. 

“None,” Hermione sadly shook her head. “They remembered to charm the conference room this time.”  With a light thud, her slim body fell back down against the wooden floor, her legs and arms sprawled carelessly around her. She lay still for a while, her eyes screwed shut in contemplation.  _ How had they let themselves get to this point? _ Hermione wondered angrily as her thoughts wandered into the past. 

After the fall of Voldemort, the wizarding world remained shattered for months.The death of one evil man did not, in fact, bring about peace. The Death Eaters did not walk quietly into the Wizengamot, as was naively anticipated. Hard feelings left over from the war remained, and ideology ingrained in the Death Eaters refused to die along with their cowardly leader. The loss of loved ones is not so easily forgotten after all, and the balance of power had been irreversibly dismantled. Revenge, and the obsession with winning consumed all with a beating heart; darkness swept over the once bright wizarding world. All the while, no one, least of all the men fighting for power amongst themselves, had bothered to keep track of the destabilization of their neighbors in the muggle world. 

The ugly consequences of the wizarding war seeped like poison into the world of those oblivious to magic; the inexplicable bombings, disappearances, and ghastly deaths, put the muggles in a perpetual state of panic. With little understanding of the horrors occurring around them, the muggles fought amongst themselves, laying blame upon their neighbors. European countries warred with their usual allies, and alliances once thought to be more solid than the earth itself, fell apart like wood turned to ash. An air of desperation moved swiftly around the world, and with it the human need to survive overtook rational thought. 

The blame laid amongst the muggles was done along weak, fractured political lines, of which the wizarding world thought they were immune to,  _ better than _ . The poor and the powerful all suffered equally, until a violent breaking point was reached amongst the muggles. Nuclear weapons were fired at one another, and the world as everyone knew it, wizards, creatures, and muggles alike, anything left in the wake of destruction, now had to live in the shadow of war forever. 

In response to the irreparable destruction a new natural order arose, erected by the need for survival. No longer was there clean water, and fresh food was a luxury of the past; the earth wept poisonous rain down upon the sinful and innocent alike. The earthly debris, dust, and ash caused a dangerous change in the earth, and the world grew cold under clouds and long winters. And so, on top of the still simmering ashes of the old world, the Seven Realms were slowly formed, each clinging to whatever resources they could, all distrusting of one another. 

The sound of the door creaking open broke Hermione out of the depths of her mind, and she let out a small, rare smile at the sight of Ron and Harry. 

“Any luck?” Ron whispered as he took a seat on the floor next to Hermione. “These rations are going to be the death of me,” he muttered miserably, rubbing his stomach. 

Hermione sighed, and Ron took her silence by bowing his head in desperation. Contrary to muggle belief, magic had its limits. In the disastrous months directly following the nuclear shadow, wizards used simple charms to conjure water, but after months, many fell ill, suffering from dehydration. After a rash of panic amongst wizards and witches, it was found that the conjured water was not actually satisfying nutritional need. The water was merely a trick, attending mostly to psychological desire rather than function. Conjured water, though in some cases a temporary solution, was not enough to solve the problem of how to hydrate the body, nor would it keep fields of crops growing. Likewise, food did not just appear on dinner plates, it had to be grown, and cultivated. When rations were multiplied, the nutritional value suffered, doing little to keep those from malnourishment and starvation. There had been poverty, hunger, and pain in the wizarding world, just as they existed in the muggle world. Wizards and witches were not immune to the laws of the universe in all matters. Food, clean air, and water were all still essential to survival. 

And the muggles had seen to it that all those precious resources should be destroyed, tainted by radiation and poisons, blown up with weapons of mass destruction. Hermione bit back a bitter laugh. The muggles she had protected so fiercely, were utterly lost in their methods of violence; she and the rest of the magical community realized too late that the greatest mistake one can make is the underestimation of your neighbor. A wand is powerless to stop what it is not prepared for. 

During the great migration, in which people fled into the deepest parts of the worlds, wizards started protecting lands with the use of powerful magical domes, a protective shield not unlike the one used to shelter Hogwarts during the final battle. In fact, Hogwarts castle, and some of the surrounding land was the current home of the Realm of the Order of the Phoenix, led by none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt. The one priceless resource they held was the abundance of water they could access. Were it not for the ancient, magical properties of the Black Lake, Hogwarts, like much of the world, would have been uninhabitable due to poisoned water. Not even Minerva could answer the question of where the lake got its source, and how when tested, the liquid gold was always clear of all radioactive matter. Such a large source of untainted water was nearly impossible to find. 

Though most had not been so lucky in their quest to secure resources after the initial bombs erupted, the Malfoy family had once again emerged victoriously, rising to a level of importance and notoriety they held prior to Voldemort’s reign. Their wealth and massive amounts of land, though spread out amongst many properties across Europe, had become a safe haven for the supporters of Voldemort, and those whose alliances were not with the Order in the aftermath of the war. A strong alliance existed between the Realm of the Death Eater’s, ruled by the Malfoy family and the Realm of Durmstrang to the far North, across the sea in a land only few had memory of the location. 

“Why can’t we just take the food again?” Ron whined. “We have more people, and really, the Malfoys and all those other bastards shouldn't be alive.” Hermione swung her tiny fist against Ron’s shoulder, causing him to wince. 

“You’re so _thick_ sometimes, honestly. We’ve been over this before. If we attack the Realm of the Death Eater’s we risk facing a war against them _and_ the Realm of Durmstrang, who we believe will come to their aid. Without the water we give to the Malfoy’s, they would be unable to produce the food _we_ _all_ need. We don’t produce enough food on our own to sustain ourselves, but the Malfoy’s and the Death Eaters have some of the only good soil left in Europe, so, _we need them_.”  Hermione explained condescendingly. 

Ron’s eyes set with determination. “Alright then. Fenrir and the werewolves of the Highlands? Why haven’t they tried to destroy us?” Ron asked.

“The only things keeping Fenrir and all the werewolves and vampires in bloody Scotland from attacking us is the fact that we have more people,  _ and  _ if they infiltrate our dome, they will compromise the water source for everyone. And then  _ we all _ starve,” Hermione’s eyebrows knitted together in worry. 

“I hate politics,” Harry interjected. “It’s bloody pointless. Can’t we just do away with it already?”

“We essentially have,” Hermione nearly shouted back, thinking of the current state of each Realm. Where there was once democracy, freedom of voice, there now existed dictators, Kings, and autocrats. The slow death of government as it once existed in Europe was one of the most disheartening facts of life for Hermione now. 

When Hermione had first noticed the weakness of the Wizengamot, the unfolding of a political system in which people elected their representation, she raised her concerns. But, regardless of the amount of pushback she gave against the loss of political freedoms, the more hardship they encountered, the more people were willing to relinquish their voices in exchange for security. 

And so, as the years passed, so did the people’s desire for elections. 

“Politics are not pointless, “ Hermione continued, astounded by the lack of brain cells her friends possessed, particularly when their stomach’s were involved. “Honestly boys, we have been over this before. These meetings are essential to our survival. Unless we control enough resources to sustain our people, we cannot live without the others. Each Realm holds a key to the others survival, and each Realm is essential in keeping some semblance of order. Besides, without the others, the muggles would just come and destroy us anyway, what with all the fortified weapons the Goblins keep making for them…” Hermione assessed, her brow furrowing under the complexity of their situation. The world of muggles had long been discredited, until the true power of weapons of mass destruction were unveiled. A wand could not always stop the onslaught of bombs, nor bullets. In regards to physical manpower, they far exceeded the amount of magical folk left in the world. 

“I still don’t understand why we can’t just destroy them all, take everything, and live the rest of our lives in peace,” a frustrated Harry bit out. 

“You’re both starting to sound like the rest of the muggles,” Hermione said, rubbing her temples. “Some problems can’t be solved by force of will and violence alone. We all  _ need  _ each other. It’s been five years since the Council of the Realms has been formed, and you both  _ still  _ don’t understand what the bloody hell is going on?” The exasperation in Hermione’s voice was so evident, that even Harry had the good sense to cast his gaze downwards. 

“The Council of the Realms has been useless. All they do is sit in that bloody room and argue,  _ and then _ they go back amongst their people and plot the death of everyone else. Face it, the world is mad, Hermione. There’s no saving it this time,” Harry said, his voice rising slightly at the end as his chest heaved out a deep, exhausted breath. 

“Anything can be saved,” Hermione asserted defiantly.  

“Alright then, Hermione” Ron squared his shoulders, readying himself to fight back against Hermione’s logic, “We would have enough land for food if we were allowed to clear the Forbidden Forest. What’s stopping us from attacking the Realm of the Forest?” 

Hermione shook her head sadly. “The Realm of the Forest is protected lands for the _ very territorial _ centaurs and all the other mistreated creatures of the world. If we would give them equal rights, and equal access to our water,  _ maybe  _ they would allow us to use some of their land. But we don’t, because for some asinine reason, most wizards fear them. And we can’t just be rid of them, because they provide us protection; The Forbidden Forest protects our borders on nearly all sides. How are we to do away with the buffer against our enemies? Of course…” Hermione bit her lip in contemplation and let out a soft groan “...if we were to give them unlimited access to water, there is no saying that they would continue to protect us,” Hermione grumbled. 

“This is so bloody complicated,” Ron groaned. This was not the first time Hermione had this conversation with her friends, and it most certainly would not be the last. “All I want is some damn food. What is the hold up this time?” 

“The negotiations regarding the amount is difficult this time,” Hermione surmised. “Though the Malfoy’s won’t say, we believe they are lacking water needed for their crops. They want more water, but Kingsley is afraid if we provide it, they won’t be able to meet our demand for food right away. Politically, it isn’t good for him, and his control seems to be hanging by a thread at the moment,” Hermione whispered her last sentence. 

Harry’s stomach groaned. “And the muggles, why don’t we take  _ their _ food? Since they are the ones who started this mess? Let them fend for themselves,” Harry sneered. Over the last ten years, wizards distaste for muggles had significantly increased, even amongst those who were once a part of the muggle world. 

“They control the major water ports; they are our access to the rest of world trade and engagement...on top of the fact that there are other muggles around the world that could come to their defense against  _ us _ .They provide us with the antidote to radiation exposure. They give us the medicine and chemicals needed to combat toxins outside of our borders. In exchange for that, plus silver, we provide them with food and water, and limited wards for protection.”

“And we really couldn’t just defeat them? Magic is more deadly than anything they have,” Ron boasted. 

Hermione scoffed. “We’d need  _ all  _ the wizarding world to come together for that. It’s more likely the other magical folk would double cross us in our efforts to overcome the muggles together, leaving us as fodder for the Realm of London while they take what remains after battle. Do  _ you _ honestly trust the others to fight alongside us?” There was no need for Hermione to hear his response, the correct answer was a resounding  _ no _ . 

At this point, Hermione was once again laying on the ground with her eyes closed. This conversation was beginning to eat away at her patience. “I’ve told you this all before, don’t you  _ ever _ listen to me?” 

“Course we do ‘Mione,” Ron whispered, gently grabbing her hand in his. “We just aren’t nearly as brilliant as you. Never will be, I suppose.” 

Hermione’s heart softened a bit at his words. As absolutely frustrating as the boys could be, she loved them dearly, and would protect them at all costs. 

“Oh Ronald,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers. “Hopefully Shacklebolt is able to pull off a miracle today. Our food stores are running entirely too low for comfort. The crops we have been farming near Hogwarts just won’t be enough,” Hermione whispered sadly.  

Harry’s stomach let out a loud grumble. If she hadn’t been so hungry herself, Hermione would have giggled at the sound and the comical timing of the intrusive noise. 

_ Something has to change,  _ Hermione thought desperately as she waited for the inevitable bad news. 

* * *

 

Hours later, long after the boys had gone home to find food, when the shouting from the room had escalated into the hallway, Hermione found herself pulling Shacklebolt away from the altercation. 

“ _ Enough,”  _ Hermione hissed into Shacklebolt’s ear, tugging at the larger man’s robes. “Come, let’s head back to Hogwarts before blood is spilled all over the carpet.” 

It would not be the first time a council meeting ended in blood being spilled. Without another moment of hesitation, both Hermione and Shacklebolt left the small hallway and hurried toward the fireplace. When the Order realized Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds were to become their permanent home, they had spent months trying to lift the wards blocking apparition. Alas, the ancient magic was too powerful, even for the brightest wizards of the century. Now, the floo network was the only way they could travel in and out of Hogwarts. Taking a handful of floo powder, Hermione confidently said her destination and was engulfed by a flash of green smoke. 

The fireplace roared as she was thrown into the office that used to be home to generations of Hogwarts headmasters. Without the warmth of Dumbledore, and the unusual artifacts it once held, much of the magic that had once made the room so special, was gone. Shacklebolt stepped out of the fireplace beside her, and shook some of the soot from his robes. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Kingsley, questioning the meeting without using words. 

Being a natural born leader, Kingsley was a man fiercely trusted by those who knew him well, and he rose effortlessly to the forefront as their ruler. His notoriety from the war cushioned him against the unease some felt towards having a single, unelected leader. Hermione, with all her brilliance, was not pacified as others were by the thought of a single ruler, regardless of how strong they thought he was. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” Kingsley wearily shrugged. Hermione heard the distinct sound of his stomach grumbling. “How about some dinner?” He clapped his hands with an unusual amount of excitement and walked over to one of the paintings hanging from the wall. Hermione did not have a moment to question him before he pulled the painting forward to reveal a small, hidden doorway. Though the secret doorway did not necessarily shock her - this was Hogwarts after all - her mouth fell open when she saw what was hiding just beyond the door. 

“Kingsley,” Hermione said cautiously, eyeing the amount of food stored behind the painting. “Is this food accounted for in the ledgers?” 

Kingsley waved his hand, which was currently filled with bread. “Of course, of course, my girl. Now, dine with me while we discuss the Council Meeting.” Hermione was stiff as she sat in the wooden chair facing Kingsley’s desk, judging him with her copper eyes. 

Hermione surveyed Kingsley with hidden concern. His skin had become puffy with weight, yet that did not stop the wrinkles of time from etching themselves permanently into his skin. His robes were ostentatious, made of valour and leather, dyed the most brilliant shade of purple. The Kingsley before her was not the once powerful Auror he used to be. He had become complacent in a world where he was insulated from the dangers beyond his walls, tucked safely away in his tower, upon the headmaster's chair.  

_ Throne _ , Hermione quickly corrected her thoughts. He was in every sense of the word  _ a king  _ now.  _ Which makes me what? _ She thought bitterly. Certainly not one of the peasants below, she surmised. Hermione felt the usual bubbling of guilt in her gut; she held a  position of power, and the lack of influence she had over Kingsley, was frustrating. She took on the role of his advisor as a way to engrain checks and balances to his power, to possibly create a new political structure. 

Hermione’s forehead creased with worry. Something felt off about Kingsley tonight. His quick defense of the stored food he was hoarding made her feel ill at ease. Hermione liked to think she kept him grounded. It’s why she placed herself by his side for so long. She kept the books, and relayed important messages to Kingsley regarding the people living around the castle. She had dedicated her life to fighting for the creation of a new world. But now, she was not so sure of her position. Sadly, she fell into a pattern she felt many before her had. Her wit and intelligence was used as a tool. More and more, Hermione felt the heavy burden weighing her thin shoulders down. She felt oddly stagnant despite her busy days, condemned to a life where she watched Kingsley become further isolated from the tragedy occurring outside his office. 

The situation felt hopeless. Kingsley, unaware of Hermione’s internal thoughts, kept speaking about his plans to get the Malfoys to trade with them. 

“Kingsley,” Hermione finally interrupted. She was frankly bored by his stubbornness, and her patience was wearing thinner than a unicorn hair. “Why don’t we just trade more water? It seems like a simple solution to this problem. We need crops, they need water. I’m not quite understanding your hesitation to withhold the water?” 

“Because the people are expecting a large delivery of food after such a long wait. If I don’t deliver, I look weak. Beyond all of that, we also can’t  _ trust  _ the Malfoys. Last month we delivered nearly a barrel more than we usually do, and  _ still _ they are telling us their food production is at a stall. Where is all the extra water going?”

Hermione’s eyebrows pulled in towards her nose. “I agree with your assessment that the water amounts the Malfoy’s are demanding are… troubling. Either they are trading larger amounts of food with others and need more water to keep up with the demand, or, they are hoarding the food in preparation for war,” Hermione paused, taking a breath after her long-winded analysis. “However, this does not alleviate our immediate need for food, and so I suggest we not worry about the trustworthiness of our enemy, and focus more on the resource they control.” 

Kingsley let out a tired sigh. “Hermione, do you see no other way to get this food without giving in to their demands?  _ The people will not be happy. _ ” Kingsley stressed his last sentence, as though it were the most important consideration at hand. 

“Well, if you don’t deliver any water to the Malfoy’s, you’re going to have a lot of dead folks on your hands, and then the people of the Realm will really  _ not be happy _ . Perhaps we can negotiate a trade of more than food? We could give them the water they are asking for, but in return we receive food,  _ and _ silver. With the extra coin, we can purchase more steel from the goblins to upgrade our water storage sheds, filters, and maybe some of the houses.”

Kingsley nodded his head. “Your council is truly my greatest strength, Hermione. I shall think about the consequences of this trade. Go rest, it’s been a long day,” Kingsley finished, dismissing her. Despite his compliment, Hermione could not help but feel dirty. She had solved his problem, and there was nothing left to think about. He would go through with her suggestion, as he always did, taking credit for its brilliance along the way. 

As she made her way to the door, his voice gave her pause. “Uh...Hermione, dear, one more thing. You will keep what you, um, saw here today…. between us?” Shacklebolt said with a nervous laugh. Hermione, not trusting herself to speak, merely took one look at the painting behind his desk and nodded. 

_ He’s hiding something,  _ she thought, biting her lower lip, and making a hasty retreat from his office. 

Hermione often heard the whispers in Hogsmeade. The people knew Hermione was the one who had been guiding them forward, which likely was the only reason Kingsley had not been overthrown yet.  This thought, however, did not give her comfort, especially now that she had seen the food. If the people were angry with Kingsley, eventually, they would turn on her as well for her lack of ability to control the gluttonous king.  

As Hermione crept through the nearly empty halls of Hogwarts, she shuddered at the memory of Kingsley shoving bread and meat into his mouth. With a sigh, she straightened her slim form to stand upright, forcing her tired legs forward, into the bowels of the castle. It was time to pay a visit to the ledgers, so she could analyze the numbers of their food. A tingling in her mind kept telling her something was not quite as it seemed, and that feeling was almost never wrong. 

As Hermione walked down the stairs, the wards shimmering outside the windows despite the darkness of the world outside, a thin child ran by her leg. The young girl’s robes were nearly falling off her bony frame. Hermione walked a bit faster towards her destination, the sight of the malnourished child lit the fire in her veins which had nearly burned out. If anyone could solve this problem, could right the world after the destruction of men, Hermione knew it was herself. 

 

* * *

 

Shacklebolt paced the room of his office, unable to calm the nervous energy flowing through his body. It was well past midnight, and the stillness of the world bore down upon Kingsley, bearing into his soul. There was a part of him, albeit small, that wished the wizard who had arranged this secret meeting would fail to show. 

But, as the flames in the fireplace roared, and a tall figure cloaked in a rich black robe stepped out, Shacklebolt knew there was no turning back. 

“Good evening, Kingsley,” the icy voice of the cloaked man faintly carried through the silence.

“Lucius,” Kingsley nodded to the man and motioned for him to take a seat next to the fire. With practiced grace, Lucius elegantly seated himself on the leather chair. Without another word, he lifted his gloved hand and snapped his fingers. A glass bottle of bourbon lifted from the bar, poured itself into a crystal cup, and levitated toward Lucius. 

“Since you don’t own house elves, I thought it best that I help myself. I hope you are not offended,” Lucius said in his customary condescending tone. He sipped lightly on the drink, feeling confident that Kingsley was not the type of man devious enough to poison his own liquor reserves. 

Kingsley turned his nose up at the glass. “Are you so lonely at your castle that you feel the need to find drinking company here with the Order?” 

Lucius chose to ignore the slight directed his way, and instead leaned forward so he could better see into Kingsley’s eyes. “I hear there are whispers of rebellion within your Realm,” Lucius provoked. Kingsley looked down, avoiding the inquisitive gaze. 

“All Realms have their conflicts, Lucius. You should know that well enough,” Kingsley muttered in response. The truth was rather difficult for Kingsley to face. Yes, there was indeed a hidden faction in his own borders, an untraceable force that wished him dead, that wished for his rule to be over. “But, I am certain you did not travel here in the dead of night to speak of my woes. What is the purpose of your visit?”

“No need to be touchy, Kingsley. I merely want to extend my wealth of knowledge upon you. There are warnings from our neighbors to the West that an uprising is coming. Fenrir is amassing an army, and hoarding supplies. Apparently, the muggles have a secret accord with the half-breeds. There is to be war brought down upon us, Kingsley.” Lucius took another sip of his drink to allow Kingsley time to process his warning. 

Kingsley cleared his throat, “How certain are we that this threat is real?” He paused thoughtfully before adding, “And why are you telling me this?”

Lucius smirked, spinning the liquid in his glass. “I have a contact within the Highlands, someone willing to divulge me information. The Realm of the Highlands has started to produce food. Albeit, it is not much, but the Muggles and creatures of the Highlands are finding new ways to clean their soil and produce for themselves. When their need for us is through, they want to be rid of us, to start a world in which our Realm’s are no longer  _ ours. _ ”

“How do I know this to be true? I have no reason to trust you, Lucius.” 

“Although I despise you, I need your assistance in keeping our enemies at bay. Our numbers are… dwindling, as you so graciously reminded everyone earlier. The Realm of the Order has the most magical folk out of any of the others. With your help, we can defeat the Realm of the Highlands, and the Realm of London. The muggles and the half-breeds deserve to be reminded of their place in this world.” 

Shacklebolt shook his head in disbelief, letting out a strangled croak. “And you want me to just tell my people that we are going to fight by your side? And you think they will listen? Lucius, they are half mad with starvation. If I tell them they must fight to protect  _ Death Eater’s _ , they will have me killed in the streets,” Kingsley warned severely. Lucius could see histeria building inside Kingsley, but he paused for only a moment before responding.  _ Now was his chance…   _

“If the Realm of the Highlands and the Muggles overthrow us, you will all die. There is no one else to come to your aid, Kingsley. The other Realms would frankly love to see your downfall. I’d like to make a proposal,” Lucius whispered, his mouth quirking up at the corner into a smirk that could only be described as sinister. “As the two Realms in control of the most valuable resources, I suggest we form an alliance...A strong show of force against our enemies, and a way to bring about stability to all the Seven Realms.” 

Shacklebolt’s eyebrows raised high upon his face, and he scratched his chin in thought. This was the type of proposal that could secure the Realm of the Order in his name. He’d be a hero, the bringer of peace and beacon of hope that no one would dare turn against; this was the type of alliance that made an average ruler, great. Forever. Beyond that, Shacklebolt could see the power physically radiating behind Lucius’ eyes. Secretly, he wanted to feel that type of power coursing through his own veins. “And how am I to trust you, Lucius?” Shacklebolt said cautiously, his mind still clearly turning at the proposition. 

“Simple - I am proposing this alliance to be forged through the most sacred, and strongest of all magical forces…. A ancient wizarding marriage, bound by magic and blood. Think about it Kingsley,” Lucius said, and Kingsley could have sworn the cold eyes of the man literally flashed in the darkness. 

“And who, Lucius, do you have in mind for such an arrangement?” Shacklebolt questioned nonchalantly, trying to conceal his interest in the deal. 

“As the heir of the Realm of the Death Eaters, I think it is fitting that Draco be the benefactor of this alliance. In exchange, I expect a suitable match be offered from your Realm,” Lucius sneered. 

Kingsley’s face became impassive, a smooth stone canvas. “As you know, I do not have children, but, the best I can offer up is my right-hand advisor.”

“As open-minded as I am in these negotiations,  _ Potter _ is not who I had in mind for my only son.” 

Shacklebolt let out a gruff laugh. “To seal our new alliance, I offer to you the most powerful witch in all the Realms…Ms. Hermione Granger.” 

Lucius unleashed the full force of his gaze upon Shacklebolt and let out a delicate laugh. “A  _ mudblood _ ? You do know the life you are placing her in, don’t you Shacklebolt? As heir of the Realm of the Death Eaters, Draco’s new wife would be required to live amongst our people.” 

“I am aware of that, Lucius. However, I trust the woman. She is smart, capable, and above all else,  _ her loyalty to the Order knows no bounds _ . Would Draco be accepting of this arrangement?” 

Lucius waved his hand elegantly in dismissal. “My son will be okay with whatever orders I give him. Though I must say, you seem almost  _ eager _ to offer up the mudblood… any reason as to why, Kingsley?” Lucius hissed, showing his luminescent white teeth under the force of his malevolent smile. 

“And you seem almost  _ eager _ to accept her,” Kingsley countered. He had expected more of a fight from Lucius regarding his son’s future wife.  “My reasons do not concern you, Lucius. I think the girl, given her blood status and your history of bigotry, will allow our people to move beyond our sordid past towards an alliance. It won’t be easy, I imagine. But if anyone can sell the idea of peace between our Realms, I assure you, it is Ms. Granger.” 

Lucius narrowed his eyes and glared up and down at Kingsley. The man had fallen quite nicely into his scheme, and now, it was time to leave him to his thoughts. “Very well,” Lucius said, throwing back the rest of his bourbon, and standing up. Against the dim light of the fire, his shadow nearly engulfed the room into darkness. “We can iron out the details together tomorrow, in a more public forum. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we are plotting anything…  _ unnatural.  _ I will send a house elf here ten minutes to noon to retrieve you for lunch at the Malfoy Castle. Not all of us are naive enough to trust the floo network anymore,” Lucius said, outwardly chastising Kingsley for his use of the fireplaces.

“Lucius, how will your elf  be able to get through-”

Lucius held up his hand impatiently, cutting Kingsley’s question short. “My elf will be able to get through your wards just fine. Wear your protective gear, as you will arrive just outside of our wards. Bring only the girl.” 

And without so much as a farewell, Lucius stepped into the fire, leaving Kingsley to contemplate how to best tell Hermione about her upcoming marriage to the Prince of the Death Eaters.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alpha and Beta love to the absolutely, superbly, fantastically incredible In Dreams and LadyX33. Without them, this chapter would have been far far worse. Their support has my total appreciation. All spelling errors are my own. 
> 
> Thank you to all the love and support I received last chapter! I’m overwhelmed. As always, I welcome comments, criticisms, and freakouts. 
> 
> And there you have it! Slow to start, but I promise it will pick up soon. From here on out, I will be updating monthly. In the meantime CHECK OUT MY TUMBLR. I’m new, but it's so fun. I create and post my inspiration, moodboards, aesthetics, and upcoming excerpts. 
> 
> Tumblr = AMJohnson0518


	3. Play with Fire

**Chapter 2  
Play with Fire**

" _I see the dark crawling in_  
I see your walls, it's the end  
But in a chain reaction  
It's a dangerous game"  
-Dangerous Game, Klergy

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

* * *

 

"Is she dead?" Hermione heard a small voice whispered in her ear, shocking her out of her slumber.

"Miss Hermininny, Miss Hermininny," small fingers poked at her sides and a sticky set of hands touched her face. "Are you dead?"

Hermione groaned, slowly opening her eyes to find a set of brown orbs inches from her own. She gasped, taking in her surroundings. A small group of children were circled around where she lay on the dungeon floors. The records for all of the food shipments were sprawled out in a messy array. Hermione blinked her copper eyes and sat up slowly.

During her research of the food stores and ledgers in the Hogwarts dungeons, Hermione must have fallen asleep. Some residual dirt was caught in her hair, and she worked quickly to shake the mess out. The three children around her had small, gaunt faces covered in soot and mud, and their clothing was nearly as thin with wear as their malnourished bodies.

"I'm not dead… yet," Hermione grumbled stretching her back a bit. The children all looked at Hermione, wide eyes brimming with expectation.

Hermione bit her lip in thought. If Shacklebolt could steal food, why couldn't she? At least hers would do some good, she considered. Making up her mind, she gave her wand a light tap through the air. Three large apples floated out of a nearby bag, and were quickly plucked out of the air by each of the children. While they did not have enough food to sustain their rapidly growing population, the food they did have was at the very least of good quality, thanks to a little magic. Hermione put a finger to her lips, indicating it was to be kept a secret. The children nodded enthusiastically before running off.

She had one final visit to make to Hogsmead before she could come up with a solid conclusion. However, Hermione's knotted stomach was telling her it was all too clear that Kingsley was taking food unreported.  _But how?_ Hermione wondered. All of the food was shipped together, arriving directly into the stores, most of it coming from where it was produced in the Realm of the Death Eaters. Someone must have been sending him food directly for ages now, Hermione surmised, as it seemed impossible that he could hoard such a large amount of food in a short time. It also seemed highly unlikely that someone from inside the Realm of the Order was helping Kingsley, Hermione pondered, thinking back to the thin faces of the children. No one here had anything left to give.

As she walked towards the tunnel to Hogsmeade, Hermione found herself avoiding the gazes of the people. She was ashamed of her uncharacteristic lack of perception.  _How had she not noticed something amiss sooner?_

Hermione let out a groan of anger, and turned up to look at the blue-tinted dome shining above her. The magical dome placed around Hogwarts used the same magic that had been displayed during the Battle of Hogwarts, and its glow often reminded her that these struggles they faced had been going on well before the earth's destruction. Evil had won, despite the fall of Voldemort. A chill in the air caused Hermione to pull her old robes tighter. While safe, the dome was not temperature controlled, and the atmosphere was heavily affected by that of the outside world - well, for the most part. Rain, now poisoned by radiation, was unable to penetrate the advanced wards, nor the ground underneath it. On days like today, Hermione often lost herself in old memories of standing outside Hogwarts, face turned upwards to feel the cool drops of water cleansing her thoughts so she could process them. It had once been one of her favorite feelings, one she knew was a long gone dream.

Hermione, far too concerned with her own misery as she walked onward, connected with a hard shoulder, and she nearly lost her balance.

"Miss Granger, you should really keep your eyes on the road!" A voice chuckled beside her.

"Sorry," she murmured under her breath, rubbing her arm, which was now doubtless to bruise. But, it did not stop her fast pace forward.

Over the course of the next few minutes, she collided with no less than three more people, each giving her a small smile that she had trouble returning. The area around Hogwarts was becoming entirely too cramped; the streets were always bustling with people, and the houses were being erected nearly on top of one another. Hogsmeade, protected by a second, smaller dome and attached by a tunnel forged with radiation proof, goblin produced steel, now felt more like Wizarding London, a decrepit, decaying London, but still a city nonetheless. Without the resources, or more specifically, the  _money_  to buy the resources produced in the Goblin mines, the new housing felt more old-worldly than modern.

A fourth person ran into her, but this time, the person latched onto her arm, turning her lithe body towards them.

"Ah, Miss Granger, just the witch I was looking for."

Hermione's eyes snapped upwards toward the man's voice. She recognized him as one of Kingsley's guardsmen, a retired Auror by the name of Dawlish.

"Can I help you?" Hermione said impatiently, trying her hardest not to sound annoyed with the man blocking her from her research.

"Minister Kingsley has requested your presence in his office immediately," Dawlish stated.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  _The king can wait!_  She wanted to scream.

_Calm yourself, Hermione. Don't make Kingsley suspicious._

She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin just slightly to meet the guard's eyes. "Very well, I will be there shortly."

"He requested I escort you. I'm afraid the matter is urgent," Dawlish said as he turned her body to face Hogwarts. His grip on her arm had become stronger, and Hermione's heart picked up its pace. Something felt wrong. Kingsley never sent his guards for her.

With little other option, Hermione sighed and motioned with her hands for the man to lead the way. The feeling of dread that had built over the course of the night latched parasitically in her stomach, causing her frown to deepen as she contemplated the meaning of this new development.

Kingsley was almost certainly being bribed. The land surrounding Hogwarts was becoming dangerously unsustainable, and now, a personal guard was escorting her like some sort of delinquent.

This was not what she had planned, but then, when did things ever go according to her wishes?

The walk to Kingsley's tower was silent, giving Hermione's mind time to lock itself in a never-ending battle against her own thoughts. By the time she was greeted by Kingsley's solemn face, her nerves had caused her muscles to tighten painfully.

"Hermione! Please take a seat. I regret I have some important information to discuss with you."

Not trusting her own voice to hide her nerves, Hermione stayed silent as she sat down, gripping her wand in her hand as if it were her last ally left in this forsaken world.

Kingsley sighed, his friendly, though untrustworthy eyes closed in distress. "There really is no easy way to say this. You are my most loyal, trusted adviser and I believe every person here has you to thank for their lives."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Flattery, in her experience, always came at a price.

"An inside source informed me that the Realm of the Highlands, led by Fenrir, are planning to attack Hogwarts in a few months time. They have been preparing for war, and have formed a secret alliance with the muggles."

Hermione's face dropped. She had long anticipated the day when the Realms of Europe would finally feel the need to war amongst themselves. Still, something unsettled her about the delivery of this news. Why now? Why the urgency?

"This is unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected, given our circumstances. We've long talked about this happening," Hermione agreed gravely. "But, Minister, how did you come by this information?" She shrewdly questioned. She tried her best to keep her accusatory stare to a minimum.

Kingsley's cringed. "For some months.. ah.. you see... Lucius Malfoy has been trying to contact me. I thought that now… I mean we truly are in such dire need of food, that this would be as good a time as any to hear what the man has to say," he sputtered.

Hermione nearly forgot herself, and her mouth twitched with the need to scream at the Minister. Of all the secrets he could have kept, this was more concerning than any theory her mind had conjured.

"When did you speak with  _Lucius Malfoy_?"

"Last night. We thought it best to meet in secret before anyone could jump to any conclusions." Kingsley refused to meet her accusatory glare.

Her copper eyes widened suddenly with realization. "It's him… Lucius has been sending you food," Hermione whispered in shock as she furiously tried to make sense of the situation. Kingsley confirmed her theory by wincing.

"We… well we came to an arrangement of sorts… that involves you. I know this might seem an...  _unusual_  request for a muggleborn, but it  _was_  common at one point, and... it's the only way…"

Hermione felt the itching of bile at the base of her esophagus. With a cold dread, she finally identified the look on Kingsley's face. It was  _shame._ Whatever the wizard had done during this meeting caused him regret, though, not enough to rescind whatever agreement they had come to.

"Spit it out, Kingsley," Hermione interrupted, finally losing her temper with the wizard. "What exactly are you asking of me?"

"Lucius proposed an alliance."

Hermione stilled. "What sort of alliance?" She murmured, her voice soft, but lethal. She had all she could do to keep the contents of her stomach in place.

"We will be joining our Realms through a bonded marriage so that we can defeat our mutual enemies, and control the food and water  _together,_ while restoring  _peace._  I chose you, as my closest advisor, the closest thing I have to a daughter to… well..." He let out a heavy sigh, and finally met her eyes. What he saw must have frightened him, because he stood, and clutched his wand through his royal purple robes.

Hermione closed her eyes and her voice raised powerfully throughout the small tower office. " _You want me to whore myself out for food?_  Is that what you are asking of me?" Hermione bit out angrily through gritted teeth. In her heart, she knew she should be cautious, knew that this man held the power to hurt her - the guards on the other side of the door were not just for show. But despite this, she wanted to play with fire, wanted to burn the minister with her eyes, and laugh over his ashes.

"This is greater than both of us. This is all we have fought for!" Kingsley argued back. Hermione laughed bitterly at his look of confusion.

"When has that ever been our goal? We didn't fight to suddenly become allies with the fucking  _Death Eaters._  I REFUSE to believe this is the only way," She yelled. Her heavy legs, and shock, kept her glued in her chair.

_Bonded marriage… bound. Forever._

"Think of the future of our realm! The power this would give us! We could finally feed our people properly, move forward again," Kingsley pleaded. He knew this was going to be a difficult conversation, but Hermione's eyes were wild with an unrecognizable anger. His own face hardened to meet her gaze.

"Well, find another way, because I am  _not_  going to be used as a pawn in some pointless war," Hermione's shrill voice carried throughout the office, causing Kingsley to wince again.

Kingsley took a step towards Hermione, his severe face doing nothing to calm her anger. "You are not a pawn, you are the  _catalyst_  for our peace. Just think, no more time wasted fighting. No more struggling. We can finally be free to rule the realms as we please. With our numbers, and the control of both food and water supply, we'd be  _unstoppable_. And, we will be able to defeat Fenrir!"

"There is another way!" Hermione cried out. "I will not be bound-"

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, his own anger finally rising to match hers. "You act as though you have a choice. As Minister, I am demanding you to protect your people. Your realm needs you to rise to this challenge. We cannot defeat Fenrir and the muggles without them. We need what Lucius is offering us. Can you not see that?" Kingsley demanded.

Hermione's heart seized. For once, her mind failed her; She failed to have an answer ready. She failed to know the right thing to do. She thought back to the malnourished children, the overpopulated roads. The tenuous, horribly weak peace that barely kept the realms from all out chaos.  _But marriage?_  Tears cooled the fire in her eyes.

"I need to see Harry and Ron. I need… I need to speak with them. They won't let you do this to me," Hermione shook her head in spite. "They won't."

"We don't have time." Kingsley dismissed. "The boys will be told when the time is right. What is important is that you be ready in… oh Merlin... in 15 minutes time to attend a meeting with the Malfoy's. Dawlish will accompany you to your quarters. And do try to make yourself look more… presentable," he distastefully eyed the dirt still lingering in her hair. "Might I suggest some traditional dress robes?" Kingsley finished as politely as he could and he abruptly made his way towards the door.

"Wait!" Hermione sputtered as she finally pushed her body off the velvet covered chair.

Kingsley did not give her the respect of his stare, but he paused in the doorway.

"Who?" Her voice quivered under the weight of her tears.

" _Draco Malfoy."_

* * *

 

When Hermione looked back on this day, she knew she would not remember much after that conversation. She was led to her room in a rush, the walls of Hogwarts blurring around her as she fought to keep from heaving all over the ancient stone floors.

Once locked in her room - a small, richly furnished sanctuary overfilled with books that had a window with a view of the grounds - she threw herself onto the bed and let out a blood-curdling scream into her pillow.

Overwhelmed under the stifling demand of a marriage, she felt too frozen to move. Her body was wracked in shivers from the shock. Her mind was blank. Draco Malfoy. Draco  _fucking_ Malfoy. Of all the wizards in all the world, it was the one who was a coward, an absolute spoiled, manipulative pratt. And worse yet, she was being forced into a marriage by a man who considered her a daughter, a man she had devoted years of her life to helping succeed.

Time passed with Hermione laying numbly on her bed. There was no escape. Not right now, at least, and if she tried to sabotage the arrangement today she would be in a worse place than she currently was. Kingsley would not protect her in his quest for power, she had no doubt. And the Malfoys? She would be lucky to make it out of there alive should she embarrass their pure blood sensibilities.

_No,_  she thought. She had to play the game until she had a better plan in place to escape this arrangement.

Dawlish knocked angrily on the door. "It is time." His muffled voice carried to where she lay on her bed. Hermione's heart stopped.

"Please - I, I...need a moment to collect myself," Hermione choked on a sob bubbling in her throat. The anger that had set fire to her bones was now extinguished, and she felt cold- defeated. Her body shook slightly as she tried to breathe.

_In, and out...In and out…_ Hermione encouraged her heart to keep beating. Forcing air in and out of her lungs felt painful. The silence of the room made her thoughts seem like piercing screams. She wished she had listened more carefully to her friends, who cautioned her against trying to change things. Look where it had left her.

Another knock at the door caused her to whimper.

In these dangerous times, in the cramped room she called home for the last few years, it finally dawned on Hermione her place in this world, attached to strings controlled by the men in power.

She heard the door creak open and quickly sat up. "I said I needed-".

Dawlish was nowhere to be seen, but a small house elf was nervously assessing her tears from the doorway.

"Miss Granger," the elf squeaked cautiously, "I am Popsy, Master Draco's elf. He told me to assist you today." The elf took two more steps towards Hermione's bed, and suddenly smiled.

"Miss is as pretty as I was told!" Popsy nervously laughed.

"Malfoy sent you?" Hermione questioned, wiping her nose ungracefully on her robes, and clearing her face of tears.

"Yes, Miss," Popsy answered quietly. "He wants to make sure you are safe. I was ordered to make sure you have everything you need today. Are you hurt Miss Granger?"

"Ordered?" Hermione answered with malice tinging her voice. "I will be fine Popsy. Are  _you_  hurt?"

"Miss of course not! It is an honor to serve one as powerful, and kind as Master Draco," Popsy insisted with a small bow.

Hermione's frown deepened.  _Kind? The poor dear must have brain damage from the abuse_ , she thought angrily. Hermione stood up from the bed, and smoothed out her robes as best she could. "If I have no other choice at the moment, I just want this over with," she whispered sadly.

"Miss," Popsy cringed when she saw Hermione's knotted hair, dirty robes, and red eyes. "Please, let me help. Master Malfoy needs you safe. Malfoy Castle has-"

"Malfoy Castle?" Hermione suspiciously questioned. "We're not going to the Manor?" She shuddered as memories of blood and crashing chandeliers flashed through her skull.

"Malfoy Manor is not their home any longer. Too small, too dangerous... too close to London. It is rarely used, though they do visit from time to time."

_Too small?_  Hermione winced.  _The castle must be massive._

"Miss, Malfoy Castle has many tricks, and many people who may want to see you hurt." Popsy twitched. "Master Malfoy has told Popsy to prepare you to meet Master Lucius, please. We need to be quick. Popsy cannot be late."

Now, it was Hermione's turn to twitch. She would be quite literally eaten alive if she stepped foot in front of the Death Eaters looking like this.

"Let me help, Miss," Popsy said kindly. She snapped her fingers before Hermione had a chance to protest. The air around Hermione moved under her robes and hair, and swirled around her with force. She shut her eyes to keep her hair from painfully poking them. A moment later, it stopped, and Hermione carefully opened one eye to find Popsy smiling gleefully in front of her.

"A real princess!" She giggled delightedly.

Hermione walked over to the mirror. Her torn, black robes had been transformed and were now a shade of crimson so dark, they looked nearly black unless you looked closely. The top was jeweled with garnets, and the thick material hugged her frame perfectly, showing off her collarbones and curves. Leather bands rounded off her shoulders, and another leather band accentuated her small waist. Her hair was free of dirt and lay in smooth curls that framed her petite face. The only telltale sign left of the morning she had faced was her red-rimmed eyes.

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she whispered, still in shock at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. She hadn't looked like this in ages. Her life had gotten away from her these last years, and with that, went her will and ability to spend time on herself. Though her skin was still dull with stress, and her frame was bordering on too skinny, she felt her old self peeking out from the shadows.

Squaring her shoulders as best she could, she tried to wipe away the tears trickling down her freckled cheeks. She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, and she would be damned if she didn't fight for the survival of her loved ones.  _But at what cost?_ Her small moment of confidence vanished when she walked out of the room behind Popsy to meet Kingsley for their appointment with the Malfoy's. She only hoped that she could hold herself together long enough to find a plan that did not involve her spending the rest of her life bound to Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 

It was ten minutes to noon when Draco heard the sharp rap of expensive leather shoes against the marble floors. The steps rang out with an authority only his father could produce, and Draco stood from his chair to greet the man.

"Father," Draco nodded as he looked over at his likeness. Over the years, his father's face had aged only slightly, with small wrinkles creasing around his eyes and scowl. His hair had become more white than silver, and the blue of his irises looked even sharper against the thinning of his nearly translucent skin.

"I am hoping this plan of yours falls into proper order, " Lucius goaded, not bothering to say hello to the young man. "Because if not, you will not have only made yourself look like a fool, but your entire bloodline. I need to have assurance that you know what you are getting yourself into."

"Do you not trust your favorite son, Father?" Draco feigned shock and smirked. "We need to survive, and having a powerful ally is the only way to ensure that happens."

Lucius ignored his son's customary sarcasm lightly. "Kingsley seemed far too eager to offer up the Mudblood. Perhaps she is not nearly as valuable to them as you think."

"I suggest if you want to remain on her good side, that you refrain from using that word," Draco chided. "You raised me to be as cunning as you, and as charming as mum," Draco said as he flashed his most winning smile at his father. "You yourself were saying only yesterday how this will gain us the political leverage we have been lacking. She is by far the most powerful of all the witches of our age. Your generation may have a problem accepting that, but underestimating our enemies was a mistake  _your_  generation made during the last war. She is brash and uncouth, but she is still a war hero, and if I had to guess, she is the one keeping all of their Realm afloat. Not only will she bring me power, it is unlikely that anyone from the Realm of the Order would be willing to sacrifice her life to get to me. All I need from you is to trust in me, protect me from the Death Eater's who want our power, and I promise this will all work in my favor."

" _Your_  favor?" Lucius questioned coolly. His thin eyebrows raised slightly on his forehead and the contempt on his face was bordering malice.

" _Our_  favor, Father," Draco quickly corrected. "However, for our plans to reach fruition, it must first work in  _my_  favor. I have to make sure she is prepared to accept the bond willingly, or none of our plans will matter," Draco contemplated. Like his father, his face was stony, with no discernible emotions to decipher. It was a trait that had kept him alive, and he had his cold upbringing to thank for his mastery of the art.

His father rolled his eyes. "Very well. But, I refuse to accept an heir of such poor breeding, Draco. Our line has survived untainted for centuries. You have yet to tell me how you are going to iron out that little detail of this whole  _arrangement_ ," Lucius took a step towards his son and glared, surveying his eyes. They were nearly the same height now, and the young man, though lean, had filled out, with a strong jawline and piercing eyes that could intimidate nearly anyone.

Draco smirked, laughing at a secret only he knew, and placed a hand on his father's shoulder, gripping tightly. "Simple, I make sure there is no pregnancy from our union. Trust me. I will still have my heir. I'm not the first pureblood to find other  _means_ of securing a son."

A small pop echoed through the hall, and one of his father's house elf's suddenly appeared. "Master Lucius, Master Draco, Popsy and the guests have arrived just outside the gates," the small, high pitched voice quivered.

Lucius picked his son's hand off his shoulder with distaste, and Draco let it fall by his side. "You had better be right about this, Draco. We need the Realm of the Order to be controlled by  _us_. If the mudblood is our only means of achieving power, then so be it. But I am warning you, I've worked far too long for this to be ruined by  _you_." With a sharp turn of his heel, Lucius took off down the hall towards the main entry, leaving Draco to follow behind his billowing robes.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said monthly updates... BUT I was getting a lot of questions that I thought this chapter could help clear up. The next update will be in a month, for real this time. Check out my Tumblr ( AMJohnson0518 ) for upcoming excerpts, mood boards, and so much more.
> 
> SENDING UNLIMITED ALPHA AND BETA LOVE TO IN DREAMS AND LADYX33! They are absolutely wonderful. Any spelling mistakes are my own.
> 
> To everything who took the time to give kudos and review, you are greatly appreciated. Feedback and hearing your comments, thoughts, and critiques helps me grow. So thank you times infinity :)


	4. Do You Feel Safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I know I say this often, but I cannot believe the amount of support, love, and kudos everyone has left on The Alliance! I love hearing everyone's predictions and feedback. It truly means the world to me, and I am so excited to share what's next. :)
> 
> So the good news is this chapter was super easy to write, and it was originally 10,000 words long. The bad news... this chapter was 10,000 words long. To save everyone's eyes from exhaustion, I split the chapter in two. Chapter 4 will be posted this Sunday! After that, it will be another month before the next update. Make sure to follow/ favorite or subscribe for alerts if you want to keep up with updates. Also, you can follow me on Tumblr at AMJohnson0518 for moodboards, snippets, and more!
> 
> MOST IMPORTANTLY endless Alpha love to MCal and InDreams - You two are stellar and I can't thank you both enough for taking the time to read through my monster of a chapter and give feedback. Any spelling and grammar errors are my own.
> 
> Until Sunday lovelies-  
> AMJohnson0518

 

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Do you feel safe?**

" _With every settled score  
__I thought that fighting with meant fighting for  
__But you turn it around…"  
__-_ Go to War, Nothing More

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

* * *

The trip to Malfoy Castle had been an undertaking, to say the least; they needed to wear gas masks and protective gear in preparation to arrive outside the Malfoy wards. Never did Hermione feel more aware of the mess the world suffered than when she was entombed in her lead-lined, leather outerwear and claustrophobic breathing apparatus. Had the day been less somber, Hermione would have been amused at the sight of Popsy in leather; the poor dear had trouble fitting her ears into the gas mask. As Popsy walked them down the long, fortified tunnel onto the property, they haphazardly discarded their masks and clothes along the way. Popsy assured them she would prepare the gear for their departure.

"Can I trust you to behave?" Kingsley whispered gravely while he clumsily stripped his leather robes off and began following Popsy through the musty tunnel to Malfoy Castle.

The glower Hermione sent his way was more dangerous than the radiation outside, and Kingsley was fortunate they were nearing the end of their journey. Hermione could not quell the venom burning a hole in her throat, and it had nothing to do with the iodine pill she had taken; should she open her mouth to speak, Hermione was certain nothing but poison would spew out. Beneath her anger also simmered a deep fear that was leaching the confidence out of her very bones, all of which caused Hermione's lips to remain tightly sealed while she internally fumed.

_Marriage. Bound. Forever._

The words filtered through Hermione's head in various ways, in various sentences; It conjured up images of blood rituals, of screams at Malfoy Manor, of marital beds and cages. Only half an hour ago she had been prepared to confront Kingsley about his hoarding of food and corrupt regime. Now, she was marching to be pawned off in exchange for an alliance with Death Eaters, like the maidens of a time when Europe was conquered and ruled by kings.

"Hermione, you know I cherish you. Think of our Realm," Kingsley pleaded, aware of her murderous mood. "Think of the  _good_  you are doing. It's the peace you always wanted," His voice was hurried as they neared the light.

But Hermione had stopped listening. His calmly spoken words had lulled her into a false sense of security for years. If he cared at all about her, he would have told Lucius to shove this marriage proposal up his pale, bony arse. What sort of peace included the need to bind a person's soul?

Hermione nervously bit her lip and thought of Harry and Ron. She wished terribly that they were here to comfort her, but in her heart, she knew there was nothing they could do to slow Kingsley anymore. They would have no better idea of what to do than herself; she was always the brains behind their schemes. In the last few years, she had been nearly alone in her desire to see change, and the boys avoided politics at all cost, even when she pleaded with them for help. It wasn't as though she blamed them; Harry had fought one battle for the world already, and Ron was never suited to lead. No. She did not blame them, but that did not mean she wasn't frustrated with them. It was lonely at the top, and now she was paying the debt of her public service in solitude.

The blood in Hermione's veins ran cold as her eyes adjusted to the cool light shining down from the dome. They had finally arrived properly into the Realm of the Death Eater's, the first time members of the Order had done so since the disaster. An eerie fog settled around the vast castle grounds and Hermione somehow felt even more suffocated now than when she was underground.

If at all possible, the castle was more ostentatious than Malfoy Manor, all imposing stone, stained glass windows, and tall spires. Near silence entombed them, and Hermione was unsettled by the lack of life; no overpopulation to deplete resources, just wide open space adorned with one too many soulless marble statues. It felt like an etherically beautiful graveyard, void of life and staged to perfection. Both enchanted and disturbed by the beauty of the castle, Hermione almost did not notice that in the distance a small group of Death Eaters were approaching, led by the ever monarchical Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The sight filled her with a cold dread.

As Draco advanced upon their position, Hermione could not stop her inquisitive eyes from their slow movement up and down his form. To her surprise, he was composed of strong angles and lean muscle just barely visible underneath perfectly tailored clothes. Billowed out around him like black waves, his loose robes were a stark contrast to his perfectly pale complexion and neatly trimmed platinum hair. The man before her was unlike the boy she had seen a few years ago; this man radiated power the same way his father did. Draco was regal in his posture, a stunning picture of aristocracy and fine grooming. There was no doubt left in Hermione's mind, Draco was destined to become another king in the ever-growing list of rulers.

From beside her, Kingsley was equally surprised, though not at Draco's transformation. His eyes were fixated on the Carrows, each standing beside the Malfoys like gargoyles cast of iron. Perhaps he should not have come here so woefully unprepared. If there were to be a fight, Kingsley knew Hermione may not come to his aid in her current mood.

"Welcome, " Lucius called out as he and Draco approached. While not jovial, his tone was less frigid than Hermione expected, and she frowned. Understanding what made Lucius tick would be essential to their safety; any inconsistencies of character were to be taken as a sign of manipulation.

"Before we sit down for lunch, we will give you a tour of our land," Lucius said gracefully. "Kingsley, I believe it goes without saying that this information is being shared in good faith because of our agreement."

"Of course, Lucius. I have discussed the arrangement with Miss Granger at length, and we are eager to begin," Kingsley lied effortlessly.

There were only two amongst the group who saw through the veiled lie; Hermione, who was frozen with indecision - to run, or to trade her life for her Realm - and Draco, whose eyes were trained on every movement the uncharacteristically fearful Gryffindor was making.

Lucius caught Hermione's frown, and sensing her displeasure, smiled arrogantly. "Ah, yes. To our  _honored_  guest, Miss Granger, I present to you the heir to the Realm of the Death Eaters."

It took all the restraint Draco had in his body to maintain his cool demeanor as he greeted Hermione; her timid, bloodshot eyes fed his anger, and yet, Popsy still had not disappointed in her work of preparing his future wife. He had last seen her over two years ago when he still attended council meetings alongside his father. Then, she had paid little attention to him, but now, he felt the heat of her copper eyes exploring his body. Her hair was sleeker than it once was, but still possessed remnants of the untamable character Draco loved. The deep red robes and leather detailing made her look as though she were heading into battle. But the longer Draco stared, the more apparent it became that something was deeply wrong.

Her shoulders were rounded forward like they were during the war. Her eyes were swollen with unshed tears, and her cheeks lacked their usual warm blush. While the robes did well to elevate Hermione's figure, Draco knew she must be nearly all bones underneath. The confident Granger of his past was now a nearly empty shell, visibly crumbling under the weight of their impending union.

Draco frowned. No, this was not at all what he expected, and it frustrated him. His mind had always seen the Granger woman as a delicious challenge to consume. In their short interactions, which now seemed a lifetime ago, he developed a craving for the obstacles she unknowingly placed for only him to tear down. Now, her wide eyes and shaking outstretched hand would be no match for even the dimwitted Weasel.

Deciding it was best not to scare the poor woman any more than she was by pressing his lips to her fingers, he instead gave her soft hand a short, firm shake, and a nod of his head, which she mechanically returned. Draco knew that suddenly becoming all smiles and romance would not bode well for building trust with the shrewd Gryffindor. Their years together at Hogwarts had at least taught him that. One day he might tell her of the longing he had developed for her under the protected walls of their ancient school, but today would not be that day, he decided firmly.

Kingsley grunted, interrupting the awkward moment. "Right, let's get on with it then. I am eager to see your operation."

During their walk across the vast castle grounds, Draco, noticing Hermione fell behind Kingsley and Lucius, slowed his steps to remain shoulder to shoulder with her. He noted that her frown deepened as she felt his gait match hers, and she bit her lip. She was not moving nearly as fast as she once did at Hogwarts, where she practically ran through the library as though the books would disappear off the shelves. Now, her steps carried a sadness, like she was walking towards her funeral.

From ahead of them, Draco heard the calculated words of his father. "We produce food across our many lands. Instead of creating one large dome, we worked quickly enough to secure everyone's homes individually. As you are aware, many members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight have immeasurable wealth, the most valuable of which are now their properties dating back for centuries. Each citizen of our Realm who owns property utilizes it to grow whatever we need, from plants to livestock. The Realm is connected in places by a series of underground tunnels, and by a  _private_  floo network," Lucius snidely emphasized his distaste of the way the Realm of the Order managed their security.

As they turned the corner of the far right side of the stone castle, Hermione drew in a short, whispy breath, and Draco smirked slightly at the sound of her awe. Under thick lashes, she gazed out over the long rows of greenhouses and orchards. The land was breathtaking in a way she missed dearly; what the Malfoy Castle lacked in the bustling motion that people brought, it made up for in the peacefulness and splendor of emerald growth.

Her earlier assessment was incorrect, the Realm of the Death Eaters was, in fact, teeming with life. Despite the patches of fog, the bright color of the trees dazzled her, and the greenhouses were bursting with plants. She wanted nothing more than to run through the fields, arms outstretched and barefoot, as though she were a child again. In spite of her sadness, a small ghost of delight tugged at her lips.

Lucius radiated pride at the look on Hermione and Kingsley's faces. "Based on your water contributions, we provide you with what we approximate to be half of your food needs, with the assumption that you are able to produce the rest to sustain yourself. The Realm of the Order is by far the largest, and as such, you receive the most food. We provide the Realm of Durmstrang, and the Realm of the Highlands approximately the same amount as one another. As you are aware, Durmstrang needs less help - their cattle farms serve them well."

"And the Goblins and muggles?" Kingsley asked boldly.

"The goblins are… peculiar, as you are aware. They do pay us silver in exchange for food on occasion, but they wish to owe no one any favors. We have no need for their weapons, so trades between us are less to their benefit." Lucius paused, "The muggles get whatever food we have left, so long as they can pay."

They walked a bit further and reached rows of tall metal containers, each towering nearly as large as a young giant.

Lucius arrogantly waved his hand as they passed. "You're aware of how our storage containers work, I presume."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  _She_  was aware of the magic that made them work. She doubted Kingsley had cared to listen when she explained the magic was similar to the charm Draco had used on the cabinet in the room of requirement during their sixth year. This charm was modified and worked only one way, but it protected the food from radiation damage during travel- the teleportation was instant, and the vessel secured. Even she had to admit, it was exceedingly clever.

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought as they continued to meander through the rows of orchards. It perturbed Hermione that they did so little to provide food for the muggles- they were still living beings, after all. Lucius clearly still held a hatred for muggles that went beyond their part in the disaster. Were it not for their contributions of money and iodine, she was certain he would rather see them slowly starve to death. She was also certain it was how the Realm of the Highlands had managed to convince the muggles to ally against the Death Eaters and the Order. Paint the big, bad wizards as the folks who withhold food - the threat of starvation could mobilize anyone. What she could not understand, however, was the willingness of Lucius to arrange a union between his only heir and a muggle-born. There was more to this than war alone, Hermione deduced.  _What are the Malfoys hiding?_ Hermione thought sullenly.  _What am I about to become entangled in?_

The hatred of Lucius did not stop with his words. Amongst the peaceful growth existed the clawing vines of evil that wound through the fields and poisoned the serene atmosphere. As they made their way through the orchards, Hermione grew weary at the sight of the teams of house-elves, and weathered wizards, working to magically harvest the food. She hadn't noticed them upon first gaze at the orchards, but now she saw them quickly and silently moving against the trees and shrubs. On the outskirts of one field, she saw a group of men manually watering the plants.  _Muggles?_  Hermione twitched with the need to speak, but when she turned her head, she saw that Kingsley was nodding at something Lucius said, and the Carrows were walking shortly ahead of them, sneering at the laborers.

The group continued forward, but Hermione's feet stayed firmly planted in the soft green earth. This was unacceptable. With indignation, and using her anger to find a small sliver of courage buried in her gut, she boldly approached one of the more elderly, tired-looking wizards and conjured a flask of water.

"Here," Hermione whispered kindly. "It's safe - straight from the lakes of Hogwarts."

The thirsty man dropped his wand in his fervent desire to take a sip, and Hermione frowned. These people were working far too hard, but before she was able to ask the man any questions, she heard a commotion from further down the orchards.

"We are missing the girl," she heard one of the Carrows yell. When Hermione looked up she saw a flash of white hair, and Lucius angrily approaching her.

Lucius curled his lip in disgust, and Kingsley tensed at Hermione's inappropriate display of compassion. The worn wizard, noticing the scowl of his master, silently thanked Hermione with his eyes and quickly resumed his harvest.

Hermione made a show of conjuring the flask away, face brimming with painful awareness of her situation. Though she did not use her words, Draco could sense Hermione's brooding anger at the sight of the exhausted field hands; she did not even seem concerned by the malice of his father, nor the Carrows. Draco watched through guarded silver eyes. Evidently, she still had some uncontainable spark left, Draco secretly observed, though her timid silence made him wonder, would it ever again become a flame?  _And, more importantly, when?_

Despite her lack of voice, Draco knew that if he did not bring them to the castle quickly, he would soon be thwarting a fight between his father and the muggle-born witch, and it would surely mean the end of their agreement, and as such, the end of her safety.

He gave his father a stern look that cut through the tension and cleared his throat. "I am sure lunch is ready to be served. It is quicker to apparate into the castle from here. Popsy, bring Kingsley to the dining room."

"You find it safe to apparate?" Kingsley questioned nervously.

Hermione's ears perked up. There was a theory that the radiation was still harmful, even in the smallest amounts, and that apparating, while relatively fast, could still create moments of exposure.

Draco nodded icily. "When traveling outside of the dome, we apparate with protective gear and we use the iodine tablets the muggles provide us. Popsy, if you will," His curt nod and clipped tone made it clear he was done with the discussion.

With a crack, the two disappeared, followed quickly by his father and the Carrows.

Draco peered down at Hermione, who was still captivated by their land and the laborers. Despite the emotion flashing in her eyes, the woman he longed to hear from continued her wordless brooding.

Draco followed her eyes to where they were staring at the dirt-covered muggles. "They approached us," Draco told her in a detached voice, as though he were speaking of the weather. "After the disaster, everyone was looking for a safe haven. In exchange for protection and shelter, they work on our lands. Producing food is a labor-intensive endeavor and we needed the manpower."

The spark in her dull eyes suddenly flashed, and Draco had to stop his lips from forming a smirk on his face. Like an addict, his body leaned into the challenge he saw growing inside her. It had been some time since someone had offered him a proper fight.

"That doesn't make this right," Hermione lamented. "The Realm of the Order also sheltered those in need-"

"Far too many to sustain, from what I've heard," Draco argued dismissively. "At least this way, they are alive."

"Alive and  _indentured_ ," Hermione angrily snapped.

"How do you think the food you ate at Hogwarts was produced? Or even in the muggle world? Did you think your food magically fell off the plants and onto your plate?" Draco scoffed at her naivety.

"Oh, that is so  _typical_  of you, Malfoy. It's so easy to ignore the  _peasants_  beneath you. Is that it?" Hermione spat out. "There is no reason for them to be treated so poorly!"

"As opposed to starving, living in quarters so cramped they can hardly move?" Draco sarcastically responded. "The Realm of the Order is providing its people with conditions that are no better than a prison."

Hermione nodded her head towards the people working. "Where do they live?" Hermione asked defiantly.

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying not to outwardly show his satisfaction at her pushing him to his limits. His heartbeat increased and his body tingled with heat. "They live in the castle." Again, he sounded detached, and her face flushed a fiery pink.

" _Where_ in the castle?" Hermione demanded.

"Does it matter?" Draco sneered, and he took a step towards her. "They are fed, they have a radiation-free place to call home, in a  _civilized_  land. I'm sure you've heard the rumors about the rest of the world. Outside our domes, there exists only chaos."

Hermione raised her eyes angrily, copper clashing against frost, and pushed a finger into Draco's solid chest. "That isn't enough! You cannot tell me they don't want more! There is more to life than merely sleeping, working half to death, and starving."

"And how is that any different from what you've been doing?" Draco murmured dangerously, leaning into her touch.

Hermione's eyebrows raised into her forehead, and she looked into his molten silver eyes, eyes that were gazing unabashedly at her. Hermione felt the slight blush at the edges of her face darken, but she was powerless to move. Draco sodding Malfoy, the man whose passion it was to annoy her, had put into words what she had been feeling for ages. She was not thriving - she was barely surviving if she were being honest with herself. It was starvation and loneliness, restlessly searching for a purpose to feed her soul all while she kept a brave face in spite of the destruction of her freedoms. But in no way was she comfortable with Draco knowing her darkest held secrets. She tore her eyes away from his and stared at the ground, defeated. The anger in her had suddenly dissipated to a whisper and was once again cloaked in an unrelenting fear. When she was bound to this man, would he force her to reveal all her secrets to him?

Draco's condescending smirk fell from his lips. "They will wonder where we are," Draco whispered after a moment of staring at her deflated face, which had again gone ghostly pale. Hermione still avoided his gaze but nodded.

He held out his arm for her to grab, and the moment he felt her fingers barely wrap around his robes, he lifted his wand to transport them where the details of their marriage were already being discussed.


	5. Fall In Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A huge thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts and supported and followed and favorited and given love! I'm seriously overwhelmed. My favorite moments this weekend were reading the comments. This chapter hopefully answers any questions you were all having!
> 
> Loads of Alpha love to Mcal and InDreams, two of the most genuinely kind writers in the fandom.
> 
> Get ready everyone - this is where it starts to pick up!
> 
> See ya next month  
> -AMJohnson0518

**Chapter 4  
** **Fall in Line**

" _I got a right to speak my mind  
_ _And I'm gonna pay for this  
_ _They're gonna burn me at the stake  
_ _But I got a fire in my veins  
_ _I wasn't made to fall in line…"_

Fall in Line, Christina Aguilera, ft. Demi Lovato

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

* * *

Hermione's nerves wound up her spine like devil's snare as she and Draco landed in the ornate hallway of Malfoy Castle. He steadied her carefully before releasing her hand. Hermione barely felt his touch though, for she was too enthralled under the spell the castle had cast over her. The Malfoy Castle was just as grand as Hermione had anticipated- like something out of a morbid fairytale. The tall ceilings and walls were covered in richly carved mahogany wood; every inch of the castle was cloaked in fine tapestries and paintings, with gold chandeliers and fixtures.

The stained-glass windows let in a tinted light that kept any secrets within the walls safely hidden amongst the dark shadows. Despite this, the mysterious darkness felt oddly warm, not at all like the coldness exuded by Malfoy Manor. The staircase to their left split off at the top of the first landing, creating a dignified entrance that led to a second level with an overview of the first floor. From there, Hermione could only guess how far up the castle continued.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Draco arrogantly whispered beside her ear. It was hard for him to remain poised around her; there was something alluring about the courage he knew she was hiding away. The glimpses he saw of it were maddening.

Hermione shuddered. This beautiful place was to be her prison if she could not find a way out of their bonding. "It's a shame the people within it don't share its charm," she snapped bitterly, thinking about the Death Eaters that likely resided here.

Draco raised a single eyebrow in condescension but ignored her taunt. "Follow me," he said in an exceedingly frigid tone.

He quickly walked them to a set of doors off the main hallway and did not hesitate before pushing them open. Hermione wearily stepped into the richly decorated dining room. At a long, wooden table set with what Hermione knew to be the most expensive cutlery she would ever eat from, sat Lucius, the elusive Narcissa Malfoy, and a handful of Death Eaters - some of whom she did not recognize. They were daintily eating roasted pheasant and hearty vegetables, all while sipping a dark burgundy wine. Had Hermione not known the cause of this meeting, it would have appeared to be a fine, albeit glacial, dinner party. Amongst the stoic group, Kingsley offered a stark contrast. His jovial smile and loud demeanor violently clashed with the stillness of the dimly lit room. While the room felt royal, the discussion was less than dignified.

"We need to sell the idea to the people!" Kingsley announced, almost joyously to the stoney Death Eaters seated at the table. "I think a wedding ceremony will boost morale, and it can be a show of trust between our Realms."

Hermione froze in place at the words. She did not think she could handle a wedding. Merlin and Morgana above, she could not handle  _this._ She always dreamed her wedding would be a sensible affair, something she and her mother should have planned together; using magazine clippings for inspiration and involving family treasures, with quaint details that meant something to her... with a life partner who  _meant_  something to her.

Draco pulled out her chair at the table and her legs numbly carried her forward to take her place amongst the others. She felt faint. Draco's hand brushed across her back as he pushed her seat into the table and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Lucius grinned triumphantly. "For once, we agree Kingsley. We announce no sooner than two days before the wedding date. It will give everyone a fair amount of time to prepare, without giving enough time for anyone to plot against the wedding. Until then, we are to be discreet," Lucius firmly decided. The Carrows nodded. Hermione huffed in frustration but her consternation kept her quiet.

_And what of the other Realms?_  Hermione thought, but she could not force the words out of her mouth. She felt like a child again, before her days of being the resident know it all at Hogwarts, when she feared what others thought.

"And the other Realms?" Draco questioned, as though reading her mind. "How do we want them to hear the news?" He cut a piece of pheasant, and Hermione watched the juices run onto his plate. How he still had an appetite when he was about to sign a document binding himself to his sworn enemy,  _a mudblood_ , made her dizzy with confusion.

The room was quiet for a moment. Draco found himself again searching Granger's profile from beside him. This was the type of question that had Granger's mouth and mind all over it, but, as before, she remained deep in thought. Draco's eyebrows pulled together and his forehead creased. If it drew Hermione's attention, her glossy eyes gave nothing away.

"We must personally meet with each of our allies," Lucius said confidently. "The Realm of Durmstrang should hear it from us, and not from rumors, lest they think we are arming against them."

"Do you think telling them before the wedding puts the agreement at risk though?" Draco countered. "If they know before we are bound, wouldn't they have an interest to put a stop to it? If we meet with them immediately after the wedding, we are secure in knowing if they harm one of us, both Realms will be motivated to attack."

Hermione was not surprised that Draco seemed so comfortable with strategizing - he was nothing if not cunning. He always had been, she begrudgingly admitted, and this was clearly his element; his eyes were shining brightly, and he was basking in his confidence.

Lucius nodded slightly. "We should not wait longer than a day after the wedding to request a meeting with them."

"Of course, father. It will be a good opportunity for all three Realms to meet and discuss our upcoming challenge to overcome the Realm of the Highlands and the Realm of London."

"It's settled then, so long as you are willing to provide food for the wedding feast," Kingsley said with his mouth full of carrots. Hermione felt her stomach squeeze with nausea.

"Speaking of the Realms," Kingsley continued loudly, "we need to discuss our trade agreements as part of the marriage contract. In regards to the food and water-sharing amongst our Realms, I believe we should agree to match each other's needs. We will increase the amount of water we give you, provided you meet our total food needs for this month and next, while we rebuild our supply. Having no need to supply the Realm of the Highlands anymore should make it possible for you to provide us the food we need."

Draco placed his fork down on the table. "Cutting off the food supply to the Realm of the Highlands will alert them to our knowledge of their plans. I believe it is beneficial if we appear unaware of their secret alliance, at least until we can secure more information," Draco countered. "That being said, we can meet nearly all of your food needs this month and next, should you give us the water we requested, plus four additional barrels."

"That will be fine. We will send you the water after the wedding is over," Kingsley agreed with a wave of his hand, as though the bitter battles they had fought for years over this very topic had never existed. Hermione wanted to scream her frustration through the castle until the stones came crumbling down upon her.

"How can we trust you?" Alecto Carrow suddenly hissed. "Lucius, he needs to provide the water before the marriage takes place so that they don't trap our Heir in a bond and trick us into giving them food when they won't give us the water we need."

Kingsley scoffed. "And how then do I know you won't take the water, and not go through with the bonding ceremony?" Kingsley argued. "Until the bond is made official through the ceremony, we will not be sharing any resources."

"Lucius, there are no  _consequences_  of not fulfilling the arrangement. Surely you can see that," Alecto pleaded.

Lucius narrowed his eyes shrewdly and turned towards Kingsley. "How do you propose to account for the lack of incentive to adhere to the arrangement?"

"Simple, should the contract be breached, the other Realm has claim to kill the bonded pair, as was tradition in marriage contracts of old. With the bond, their lives and magic are intrinsically tied. If one dies of  _unnatural_  causes, the other dies as well. You'll lose your only heir, Lucius, and I'll lose Hermione." Kingsley smirked in a way that was far too reminiscent of Lucius himself.

Hermione paled and the room became deathly quiet. So this was Kingsley's plan all along. Should Lucius lose his heir, it would jeopardize the Malfoy bloodline, but, should Hermione die, Kingsley would lose nothing but his adviser. She noticed that Narcissa's lips were pursed so tightly, they had nearly disappeared into her face.

"There should arise no need for that," Lucius hissed. "I am aware I am in a position to lose more should the pair be killed, and therefore I am taking more risk. You will provide half of the water before the wedding, and half after. The consequences of failing to adhere can be written into the contract," Lucius conceded.

Kingsley pretended to contemplate the deal for a moment and then agreed, as he was always going to do. He had Lucius where he wanted him- giving him food to increase his political standing, removing his far too presumptuous and observant adviser, and giving him political safeguards. In return, Lucius was getting the water his Realm needed, and an army of people to fight back the Realm of the Highlands.

"Excellent," Lucius replied. "So we are in accordance. The wedding is to be held at Hogwarts. I expect a shipment of water by days end."

"The only thing we have not yet discussed is the issue of my access to Hermione. She is a key member of the Realm of the Order, and it will not do to have her so far from me." Kingsley tilted his head in momentary worry. "At a minimum, I think we should join the floo in my office to one here at the castle... with restrictions of course."

"She  _will_  reside here with us," Narcissa spoke up. "It is a tradition as the future lady of the Malfoy family"

Kingsley flippantly waved his hand. "I don't very much care where they live, but I will need Hermione to report to Hogwarts to continue her work in assisting me. Additionally, if the people do not see her, they may fear for her safety."

"Of course, Kingsley. She will be Draco's wife, not our prisoner," Lucius said in a way that made Hermione believe otherwise.

As the conversation slowed, the last of the food on everyone's plates had disappeared, all except of course, for Hermione's. Her food lay entirely untouched upon the gold-lined plate. A house-elf looked up towards Draco in question, and the blond's slight nod gave the small elf permission to remove the full plate.

From across the table, Lucius silently conjured the contract and a quill. He wrote quickly on the bottom of the parchment in elegant script, adding the discussed adjustments. When he lifted the quill from the paper Hermione's heart painfully hardened. This was it. In horror, her eyes wearily followed as the wicked document gracefully flew across the table.

Kingsley gave an approving nod at the parchment which landed in front of him. He read it for a few minutes, turning the paper in his hands thoughtfully before smiling. "Excellent, we will sign-"

Hermione could take no more and she abruptly stood."No!" She yelled. Her sudden use of voice caused everyone at the table to look up in surprise. Her heart crashed painfully in her chest.

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow. "No?" He venomously whispered.

With trembling lips, she cast her eyes around the deathly silent table. The Carrows were devouring her; they knew a caged animal when they saw one. Lucius gave Draco a sharp glare, which Draco chose to ignore by instead remaining impressively devoid of emotion. Narcissa stared intently, but Hermione knew that much like her son, she'd never give away her thoughts. Two other Death Eaters, whom Hermione did not recognize, were clearly amused at the weak show of bravado from the shaking girl who was supposed to fear nothing.

Hermione took a deep breath to steady the rise and fall of her chest, and repeated slowly, "I will not be signing any contract you put forth today. I need time to review it, and seek council regarding the marriage bonding ritual that has been chosen." She internally cringed at the waver in her voice.

Kingsley's eyes pierced her tingling skin. Hermione guessed that when he told her to behave, this was not what he had anticipated.

"Hermione, sit down!" Kingsley angrily demanded.

Clearly outnumbered, and feeling the displeasure exuding from Lucius's very pores, Hermione shakily took her seat without saying another word. This was not a battle she could win alone.

Draco carefully watched as Hermione turned her face down towards her lap, where her interlocked fingers were seemingly the most important thing in her world. He could see her mind turning, but to his dismay, her melodic voice was effectively silenced by Kingsley and his father. Her red-rimmed eyes were glossy again. The guilt in Draco's heart nearly burst through his chest. He had forced this situation. If only she knew it was to keep her safe, and protected; this was for  _her_  security as much as that of her people. Without the bond, Fenrir would be able to… Draco shuddered under the thought.

Protection of Hermione was one of the few goals that Draco had in this whole arrangement, and she was already making it exceedingly difficult, because, for once, she was not acting as he anticipated she would.

Draco composed his features before turning to his father and Kingsley. "Perhaps Miss Granger would feel more comfortable if she and I discussed the finer details of the arrangement in private," Draco said condescendingly. He snatched the contract from where it lay ominously in front of Kingsley. "If you would excuse us for a while. Come, Granger." Draco's demand gave no one at the table room for any argument. Hermione stood quickly and followed his long strides into the hall, only because she did not trust herself to survive another moment in that room without breaking.

When the doors to the dining room closed, Draco let out a deep breath; if it was of frustration or sadness, Hermione was uncertain. "Keep up, I want to show you something."

She caught a glimpse of the contract in Draco's hand and her chest tensed painfully. A sob bubbled up from her throat, and her lip trembled. This was all too much for her battered soul. A mere few hours ago her life had been her own. Now, it was going to belong to the Malfoys and the Carrows, and the rest of the filthy Death Eaters she had sworn to fight against.

Draco awkwardly lifted his hand to comfort her, but her shaking shoulders made him think better of it. His touch was likely the last thing she wanted, he conceded.

"Granger, I need you to hold it together until we are somewhere more private," Draco murmured under his breath and his fingers just barely pressed against the small of her back, gently nudging her towards the dark halls. "I promise you're safe for now," Draco whispered, trying to subdue her obvious anxiety.

Hermione thought back to the dining room where they were likely discussing her future. No, she couldn't go back in there, not with Lucius and Kingsley who cared only for their own good fortune. It would be her breaking point. Though Hermione was confused and mistrusting of Malfoy's aloof gentleness, she knew in her heart that he was her best option at the moment. Not wanting to engage in more conversation with Malfoy than necessary, she simply nodded once and walked beside him as he led the way through the dark halls of Malfoy Castle.

Standing so close to him, Hermione was able to notice small details her anger had caused her to miss. His slim nose and aristocratic features were all perfectly formed, like an old roman statue. From afar, his eyes always shone the color of molten steel, but from this angle, she could see specks of blue wound around the grey threads in his eyes. The muscles in his arms were slim, though present under his rolled-up sleeves. He was certainly far less scrawny than the boy she had seen before, more dangerous in his refined sense of detachment.

Draco took long strides beside her, and Hermione was nearly in a sprint to keep pace. Walking down the mahogany hall, Hermione still felt uncomfortable in her new attire and was not sure yet how to act around her potential future husband. Silence seemed to be the easiest option she had, and so, the walk was awkward at best, though, not because Draco was making no effort. Every new hallway he would point out an artifact, or give a brief description of a portrait on the wall, to which Hermione would simply nod. One thing had not changed, and that was Draco's arrogance. The pride in his voice at the spectacular, frivolous, museum that was the Malfoy Castle was easily discernible in his tone. Defiantly, Hermione chose to act as though she couldn't care less what he was saying, though, she secretly couldn't help but keenly observe each dark artifact with veiled fascination.

At one point, Draco's hand brushed her delicate fingers as he reached to stop her from moving forward. The shock at the casual touch filled Hermione with heat.  _It's just my nerves_ , she thought, and she continued to walk forward, careful not to accidentally brush him again.

By the time they reached what she assumed was his study, the tension between them was palpable. Draco's frustration was noticeable, though, was not necessarily directed at her. For all his charms, Draco was finding it rather impossible to get the woman to warm up to him. He noted how stiff and uncomfortable she was during their walk, and how utterly unimpressed she seemed with her surroundings, with his charisma and wealth. Perhaps as of late, he had become too accustomed to the eagerness of pure-blooded women to please him. His sharp jaw set in a hard line as he walked over to a chair and pulled it out slightly from the table for her to sit. Their eyes once again met, and her throat constricted at the sight of his penetrating gaze; Draco was trying to look within her, to see her very soul and all its secrets therein. Quickly, Hermione broke her eyes away, lest he find what he was searching for, and motioned to the table before them.

"Why are you showing me a chessboard?" Hermione questioned moodily.

"Because we are going to play a game."

Hermione barked out a hysterical laugh and another tear nearly slipped past her curled eyelashes. "Now? Of all bloody times, Malfoy, when my very soul is about to be traded  _against my fucking will_?" She yelped out another painful laugh and shook her head in despair. "You might think this is a game, but I assure you I don't see it that way." Draco cringed. Somehow, he had thought the logic behind the alliance would to some degree pacify Hermione, that she too had grown past their childhood battles. But alas, as often was, Draco's sins cut far deeper and burned darker than he meant them too.

"I know I do not deserve your attention-"

"Oh, you think?" She hissed through clenched teeth.

He huffed out a deep breath. "I do realize all I've been responsible for, and I know we certainly do not have enough time now to right those wrongs, but humor me for just a moment," Draco said cautiously. Not quite an apology- he was rather terrible at those- but it was an olive branch nonetheless. He knew if he said one wrong word, that he'd be hexed.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Draco could see her eyes softening as she weighed his words. "Wizarding chess is barbaric," she finally muttered.

Draco's mouth quirked up at the corner. "At least it's not boring. I don't know why muggles even bother to play at all."

Hermione deadpanned, and her eyebrows lifted.

Draco sighed, not the time to be making muggle jokes. "Regardless…" he said darkly, and his adept fingers tapped the board to begin. "Back there, you played a strategy that was of far less value when looking at your whole situation."

"But I barely said anything," Hermione objected.

"Exactly.  _Pawn to C6_ ," Draco said, and the black pawn glided forward across the board. "You showed where your heart lies, and your need to defy order- you showed fear. Instead of hiding your emotions, your silence drew attention to them. Besides the fact that you showed your weakness in the orchards with the laborers, and if you don't think my father didn't take note of that for a later date, you're daft," Draco paused in contemplation. "You clearly don't want to be in this situation. You came off as upset-"

"Oh really? Please, tell me more about how  _I'm_  feeling, why don't you?" Hermione snapped back sarcastically and she slammed a pawn forward on the board, not bothering to speak with the ivory pieces. How arrogant of him, to assume he knew what she was feeling.  _But he's right, I am upset…_  She thought bitterly to herself.

Draco groaned and ran a hand through his platinum locks. "Merlin you're insufferable," Draco laughed bitterly in agonized frustration. "I'm not the person who put you in this situation,"  _lies_ , "so will you please just listen for a moment? I'm trying to keep you - and by extension, me - safe," Draco's voice was nearly pleading by the end, and Hermione had wondered if he had ever before needed to stoop so below his superiority to speak with someone.

Hermione's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Why do you seem okay with what is happening? You've hated me for as long as we've known each other."

Draco froze in momentary thought.

He could tell her. He could tell her that she had developed the habit of biting her lip during 6th-year potions when she was suddenly not the smartest in the room and her confidence was shaken. He could tell her she loved to stand outside alone in the rain, and that fall was her favorite season. He could tell her she took her tea with one sugar and a dash of milk. He could tell her about which shade her cheeks blushed when she was being coy, and which one for anger. He could tell her she was beautiful. He could also tell her  _why_  it was imperative they be married. Draco could tell her that Fenrir wanted to steal and defile her, and this was the only way he knew how to protect her. He could tell her the truth; that he didn't hold an ounce of care about the people starving at Hogwarts - it was  _her_  he worried about. He could tell her of his plans to change the world order, and that without her, he could not achieve his ends.

But Draco, in his infinite cleverness knew that should he tell her now, should he explain that he was the reason for this arrangement, their marriage would end before it ever got started. She would never willingly accept their bond, should she become aware of the truth.

So Draco did what he was best at, he selfishly manipulated the situation; telling half-truths was his specialty. At least this time, he thought, it was for a good cause.

"I'm not  _okay_  with this, but I don't really have a choice. The logic is there, even you must see that," Draco said icily. It's what she would expect, and he knew that it would make her more comfortable than courtesy ever would. "I was able to remove you from the situation ... this time. But it won't always be that simple. I need you to be my equal in this arrangement, or else we will both end up  _dead_."

"You're asking me to be your equal, but you've never seen me like that," Hermione balked.

Draco scoffed. "You were never my equal-"

"Then how the fuck do you want me to b-"

"You were never my equal Granger, you were always infuriatingly  _better_ ," Draco interrupted her anger. "What I'm asking of you is to stoop below what your moral compass normally allows - to become  _my_  equal. I will need you to be observant, and keep secrets. I need you to be much stronger and contain yourself in a way you did not today." The words rushed out of Draco like a tidal wave, the closest to truth he would be today.

Hermione clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from tumbling open in shock. "I won't be a part of this," Hermione finally whispered, the tears forming again in her eyes at the thought of marrying a man whose family thought it okay to own indentured servants, to trade heirs with contracts, and to play games in which people had to give their lives.

"But you are, whether you choose to be or not. Knight to F6," Draco commanded. The piece moved forward, and a glint appeared in Draco's steel eyes. "Tell me, Hermione, what is the thing you want most in this world?"

Without thinking, Hermione blurted out her answer. "I want peace. I want to bring back a world in which people's voices matter- no more of this one family rule and secret contracts. I want the Wizengamot, and voting, and representation." She picked up her knight, who yelled in protest at her physical touch, and moved it to what she assumed was a safe location. The knight disagreed, laughing heartily and calling her a fool.

Draco's eyes did not leave the chessboard as she spoke; and yet, she could sense that he was concentrating on her words, mulling them over in much the same way he was with the ivory chess pieces. He selected a pawn, and following her suite, pushed it into position, knowing it would be sacrificed to her rook on the next turn.

And yet... it was calculated. Ever the Malfoy strength. When Hermione moved her rook to take the pawn, it set Draco in motion and she watched in horror as her rook was broken to pieces.

"Why did you want to know that," Hermione whispered, almost fearful of his answer. She did not meet his eyes, knowing she had made a mistake in her lesson - the broken chess pieces told no lies.

Draco leaned closer and his soft finger pushed her chin upwards, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Because after next week, we are bound. Whatever passions you are willing to die for, I will have no choice but to die for too. I need to know what to protect myself against. Your bleeding heart will not get us killed, Granger, and I want you to remember this."

The pair traded pieces for two more rounds in silence. Hermione could not gather her mind together in a single coherent thought. Could she really marry Malfoy? Could she trust him with her life?

At that moment the chessboard shifted, and Draco's king slashed the throat of her queen. Hermione sat back in terror. She had lost, and across from her, Draco looked impressively cocky, his arrogance proudly on display. "We're at war, Granger. You're in a den of snakes, whether you are here, or at Hogwarts, there are people who want you dead. Are you ready for this game?"

Hermione clenched her jaw. "You said it before, I have no choice but to play."

Draco held up his hand, dissatisfied with her answer. "It is not enough to play, Granger.  _Are you willing to win at all costs?_ "

She tried to stop her shiver of displeasure, but her heart pounded in her chest and drowned out the sound of all other reason.

Draco, seeing her dissatisfaction, continued, "Let me make myself clear- if I think you are putting my life at risk, or that you are jeopardizing your own safety for some nonsensical, illogical, martyrdom you and your friends are so drawn to, I will have no problem revoking your access to leave the castle."

"There is no access to revoke because I haven't signed anything," Hermione seethed in resentment.

"If I hadn't removed us from the dining room, I have no doubt they would have forced you to sign already. I am trying to give you a way to negotiate, Granger. Don't let yourself get in the way of that."

"Why are you trying to help me?" Hermione questioned as Draco reset the chess game.

"What makes you think I am helping  _you_? The first rule you must follow, Granger, is to trust no one. Myself included."

"I'm not playing around, Malfoy. Just answer my goddamn question," Hermione said and she shoved another pawn forward, waiting for it to be shattered.

"Everyone has their motives for making choices. Mine, as I'm sure you know, are selfish- but you may find what we desire is not so different. I took you here to give us both time to negotiate the contract, so we may have better terms without alerting everyone in the Realm of the Death Eaters," Draco paused and looked into Hermione's eyes alight with concern.

"Again, you're assuming I'm going to sign," Hermione said haughtily.

"I am," Draco confidently quipped. His bishop smashed her knight into sharp pieces. "It is the best way to get us what we want."

Hermione scoffed bitterly. " _You're_ doing this for peace?"

"I'm doing this for a chance at a different future," Draco said, his tone as smooth as ice, giving nothing away with his cryptic words. "Besides, you wouldn't still be humoring me if you thought there were better options available for you."

Her face shattered like her pawns on the board. "There really is no way out of this, is there?" Hermione whispered fearfully, more to herself than Draco. She did not mean for a tear to roll down her cheek, but there was no stopping the slow, death of her will from leaking out of her skull.

Draco looked intently at her and shrugged. "Given enough time you could find a way. If there were anyone in all the Realms to find an answer, it would be you. That does not, however, make it the right decision. Without this alliance, Fenrir and the muggles storm Hogwarts and our Realm and kill everyone. Or we are forced to trade with an unpredictable and violent group. Trust only the demon you know, not the one you cannot predict. Moreover, your people aren't ready to face war alone, not while they are near starving."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. He was right, and she loathed him for it. "That doesn't explain why there is a need for  _marriage_. Can't we solve this another way?"

"How do you suppose we are to get our Realms to trust one another without an example for others to follow? Do you honestly think Lucius and Kingsley are capable of such peaceful displays? That the people of Hogwarts would not be just as upset as you were to find they were fighting alongside the people who killed and tortured their families? But if  _we_  set the example, wouldn't that start the healing process that you need for your precious  _peace_?"

"I recall punching you once," Hermione goaded in defense, but she could not argue with the man's logic.

"That was one time," Draco groaned in embarrassment, and he called his bishop into play.

Hermione ignored him. "You spent nearly six years assaulting me with your threats. You bullied and poisoned and cursed my friends. I was physically tortured by your family!" She shrilled.

She looked down at the board. Draco was in a position to strike her queen again, and force her king to surrender. She couldn't bear to lose, and yet she felt the suffocating sense of failure grip her throat tightly. Draco had backed her into a corner, and she gasped for air.

"Fuck your games!" She suddenly shouted in a rage Draco did not think could live inside someone so fragile. In one sweep, she dragged her arm across the board; each ivory piece hit the ground with violent force and shattered. With molten eyes, her heaving chest and disheveled hair, Draco saw a flash of tantalizing possibilities. He leaned back in his chair, triumphant over his domination of the unhinged woman.

"You want me to win at all costs, then so be it," Hermione whispered maliciously, her danger radiating like an animal readying to attack. "Tell me how to get what I want."

Draco clapped slowly, looking unbothered by the shattered chess pieces that surrounded him. "Impressive, Granger." Draco's eyes held a mischievous glint. "There is the anger I remember so very well. I was beginning to think you had suffered radiation damage."

Hermione's eyes narrowed angrily. "Just tell me what's next."

"We will arrange another meeting tomorrow to complete the signing of the contract. I'll make sure the terms are more… agreeable than they are now. I have a few books regarding the bonding ritual." Draco conjured a piece of parchment and a few books from a nearby desk. He gently handed the books to Hermione and then began scrawling on the paper. "You will need to sign an accord stating you will concede to the finalized version of the contract by sundown tomorrow. I won't be able to hold my father off more than a day from getting what he wants, so I suggest you read those books quickly."

Hermione simply nodded, her throat dry from screaming. Only when Draco handed her the quill to sign his contract did she realize just how badly her hands were shaking.

"You're making the right choice, Granger," Draco said smoothly. "Your people will be better for it."

With no other options, she signed. Yet again, she could not stay the lone tear that landed against her freckled cheek. "Don't make me regret this, Malfoy," Hermione pleaded hopelessly.

The walk back to the dining room was truly silent, with Draco no longer attempting to charm Hermione. He too needed time to process what he had just set into motion. Before Draco opened the door to the dining-room he paused and turned to face a still fragile-looking Hermione. Exhaustion littered her face, and a deep crease draped across her forehead.

Draco took a step forward, putting him uneasily within her most private of space. He peered around quickly to make sure no one could hear before leaning down towards her ear. "Granger, I've seen you do many things, but letting others make decisions for you is not one." He felt Hermione angrily tense under his words, and he smirked. He'd yet again penetrated her emotional heartstrings. "Be calculated, but never quiet. Your people will never get their voices back if you allow others to silence yours. Be as intelligent as I have witnessed you to be."

He slyly released her gaze from his own and walked forward with not even an inkling of concern towards the discomfort his warm breath rousing her wild hair had caused her.

When Hermione entered the dining room, she looked only slightly less pale and nervous than before.

Draco cleared his throat, and the room fell to attention. "We have decided we will finish our conversation tomorrow. Hermione has sworn to sign the contract, and has given her written consent that by tomorrow at sundown, we will have completed the alliance arrangements."

Draco turned towards Hermione. "Are the Hogwarts potions labs still intact?"

She froze under the gazes of everyone in the room, but his earlier advice gave her voice the small amount of courage necessary to defy Kingsley's frown. "Can I inquire as to why you need to know?" Slightly haughty, cool. A poor attempt at imitation of the Malfoy heir, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

Narcissa's lips pursed into a thin line of contemplation at Hermione's tone, and Lucius looked as though he had swallowed a vomit flavored Bertie Bott Bean. Hermione swore Draco gave her a slight smile of approval that was ever fleeting.

"It's part of the marriage ritual. There is a cleansing of sorts involved, and a potion must be brewed. The potions lab at Hogwarts is, I presume, far better-stocked than the one here, thanks to my godfather."

Hermione's lips mirrored Narcissa's at the mention of the bonding ritual. It was clearly more involved and complex than she had originally thought.

"We can work in the Hogwarts lab. Tomorrow we will further discuss the ritual," Hermione answered, giving Draco an underlying warning.

"Then it is settled," Lucius interjected acrimoniously. "Popsy, please escort Mr. Shacklebolt and Miss Granger back to Hogwarts. Until the agreement has been signed, you will be unable to access the Realm of the Death Eaters any longer. It's been a  _pleasure_  securing this arrangement with you both," Lucius sneered patronizingly, and he stormed out of the room, followed by his entourage.

Draco paused a moment before leaving the dining room. "I will see you in the morning." This time, in spite of her fragile state, Draco grabbed her hand in his and raised it to his lips. The fiery look of shock she gave him made his eyes flash with a sinister satisfaction.

He was so much closer to getting exactly what he wanted, as he always did.


	6. Lonely Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a very long, VERY eventful month -which included one wild back to school week- I am excited (and relieved) to present the next chapter of The Alliance! 
> 
> Mcal and In Dreams deserve all the love in the world for their Alpha work. I am becoming more confident in my writing because of their endless support and advice. (Spelling mistakes are the fault of grammarly and myself.) 
> 
> To the best readers in the world, your encouragement, endearing reviews, kudos and subscriptions make me teary-eyed. The best part of my week is reading your predictions, cries of outrage, and kind words. I cannot thank you enough.
> 
> -AMJohnson0518

* * *

**Chapter 5  
Lonely Waters**

_But now we call against the tide  
Those distant days are flashing by._

_Hold back the river, let me look in your eyes_  
_Hold back the river, so I_  
 _Can stop for a minute and be by your side_  
 _Hold back the river,_  
 _hold back_

\- Hold Back the River, James Bay

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

* * *

Hermione relentlessly banged on the door to Harry's room. The halls of Hogwarts were teeming with life, as per usual, but Hermione ignored the curious stares of others.

She paused only a moment before her fist slammed against the door again.

"One moment," Harry finally called. Sleep was evident in his voice, and it made Hermione aware that although her day had felt like a lifetime, it was not even half-past one. After completing his nightly security detail, Harry had likely only managed a few hours of sleep.

Even so, her fist connected impatiently with the door three more times, the sound capturing more attention with each strike. In reality, it felt good to hit something, and while she knew Harry was coming, the painful sting of the wood against her knuckles was a welcome distraction.

"I'm coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist!" Harry growled.

The door barely creaked open and Hermione flung herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around his chest. Far too many tears had been shed for Hermione to cry any more, but her body still shook with uncontainable emotion.

Harry hastily wound his arm around her shoulders and closed the door. When they were further into his living room, he bent her face up towards his concerned gaze.

"What's wrong?" He questioned hurriedly. He swiftly inspected her for marks or bruises, turning her arms over in his hands and passing his eyes along her face.

For once, Hermione was glad to see that Ginny was not spending her free time with Harry. Kingsley had given her strict orders- she was to tell no one of her fate, lest she go against the wishes of the Malfoys.

Which is why Hermione had left his office and promptly stormed Harry's private quarters to personally deliver the news of her forthcoming nuptials; secrets did not exist amongst them.

"I don't know where to begin," she muttered in defeat. With drooping shoulders, she dragged her body away from Harry and slumped into the worn leather chair in the corner of the room.

Truthfully, her mind was still reeling and had she not felt duty-bound to share with him, she would be curled up in a ball on her bedroom floor nursing her broken spirit. But, after all she had been through with Harry, she owed it to him to explain why her name would soon be added to the Malfoy tapestry.

And, most importantly perhaps, she needed advice on how to deal with a certain short-tempered, red-headed man who cared for her dearly. However, before she could handle that daunting task, she had to first start at the beginning.

Hermione thought back to the events of the previous day, and decided it best to create context, so Harry could grasp the many impossibilities of her situation. "Yesterday, I found evidence that Kingsley was accepting bribes in the form of food," Hermione revealed with disdain.

Emerald eyes narrowed. "That is concerning," the words left his lips slowly, thoughtfully. "But, Hermione, if I may, what exactly does that have to do with you?" He vaguely motioned his hand over her obviously exhausted body.

"The food was being sent by Lucius Malfoy," Hermione finished with deadly finality.

The words took a moment to penetrate and then, a furrowed brow, and flared nostrils. "What?" Harry shook his head with a need to clarify the confusing string of words. "There has to be a logical explanation. Have you confronted Kingsley?" Harry said, and he began to pace in front of Hermione, forcing her eyes to move side to side as he processed the information.

Rubbing the upper skin on her arm, bruised from where the guard had practically dragged her into Kingsley's office like a common criminal, she huffed. "I didn't get the chance. Kingsley found me first thing this morning while I was gathering evidence and-"

"But why would Lucius be bribing Kingsley?" Harry impatiently interrupted. Each time Harry heard of the Malfoys' involvement in any sort, his vision was clouded by a deep-rooted mistrust; Hermione knew that he would not listen to her next words should they not be carefully selected.

"Lucius informed Kingsley that the Realm of London and the Realm of the Highlands have a secret alliance. They plan to attack us for control of our resources. To best fight against the upcoming attack, Lucius and Kingsley have decided to form an alliance." Factual. Concise. But now, her ribs contracted tightly as she tried to force the next part of her ordeal out. "He didn't give me any time to fight it," she choked, rubbing her fingers across her temple. "Harry… oh will you quit moving," she snapped and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to halt his angry pacing. "Harry, the proposed alliance is bound by a marriage. A marriage between myself … and Draco."

Harry ripped his wrist from her fingers. "Excuse me?" He seethed through gritted teeth.

Exhausted, and unable to match his fury, Hermione cast her eyes upon the tattered rug.

"We are going to meet with Kingsley. Now." Harry stormed toward the exit, spurred by the sudden onset of rage.

Fervently, she jumped out of her chair and grabbed his arm to tug him away from the door. "No, Harry. It's too late," Hermione tried to reason stoically, but her voice broke. "Besides, we can't trust Kingsley."

"Like Hell it's too late!" Harry roared. "He can't make you do this. The Order will be up in arms!"

"What Order?" Hermione finally yelled back. In his words, she found a sprouted seed of her anger. "There's barely anyone left in the Order, and certainly no one powerful enough to take on both Kingsley and Lucius." With pursed lips, she collected herself. "You've remained practically hidden for the last few years. Your word is not what it used to be, Harry. If it was, you'd have known this was happening. Kingsley has changed, and he won't care who is in his way. He's secured his own guards and forces who are loyal to him and  _his_  rule, not the Order."

"A security force that I am a part of!" Harry shouted so loudly his glasses became crooked on his nose. "I can turn the force against him. I can… I'll…" Harry inhaled deeply and pulled at his hair. "This is fucking insane-"

"Be realistic, Harry. You'd need time to convince everyone to follow you, and Kingsley will certainly find out, which could put my life at risk," she said as she exhaled a shaky wisp of breath. "And-" her cheeks flushed a noticeable pink against her pale pallor, "...I already signed an accord. By sundown tomorrow, I have to sign a final version of the contract."

"What?" Harry softly gasped, considering her slumped posture and unnaturally dull copper eyes. Suddenly, he was towering over her, casting an imposing shadow. "Why do I get the feeling you're not here to ask for my help in fighting this?"

Hermione could not meet his eyes. "I have no choice, Harry. Kingsley and Lucius and the Carrows were all there, and they were going to force me to sign, whether I wanted to or not," the words quickly tumbled from her mouth in an attempt to quell Harry's irrational plan to storm Kingsley's office.

"Then why didn't you have to sign the final agreement today? Lucius isn't the sort of man to allow negotiations," Harry questioned skeptically.

"It was Malfoy, actually." Biting her lip at the thought of their chess game, she shuddered. "Separately, he agreed to allow me an extra day to negotiate more favourable terms, but in exchange I had to commit to signing a version of the contract. We meet tomorrow to finalize the terms of the alliance."

Harry cocked his head to the side and tensed his jaw."What does  _he_  want from you?"

Hermione shook her head in a rare moment of self-pity. "I dunno, honestly. I haven't even begun to process the possibilities. I just left Malfoy Castle not long ago." Hermione released a low groan. " _Fuck._ Harry," she leaned forward and rested her taut fingers against her knees, "how am I supposed to tell Ron?"

Though she and Ron were no longer dating, their current relationship was not contained by neat boxes and tradition. When they had attempted to be exclusive, it quickly became apparent to all involved that they existed best only as friends; this, however, did not stop them from the occasional shag and close companionship. The physicality of their relationship existed past midnight between the sheets of his bed, and only on nights when she needed release from the weight of the doomed world. Since the disaster, they both had been in other relationships - all failed, of course- but none were more catastrophic than the moments Ron and herself attempted to be anything  _more_.

This did nothing to quell the ache in her heart.

It still hurt to think that she would never again feel his warmth pressed against her back at night, or the weight of his body on hers. Certainly, marriage to Malfoy meant their relationship could never exist in the same way. She imagined Draco to be possessive of his women, as he was with all his property.

"Can you be here when I tell Ron?" She pleaded.

With a loud sigh, Harry sat down opposite Hermione and pulled out his wand, conjuring a Patronus that leapt through the walls. "He's going to be angry, Hermione. More so than I am," he murmured.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the worst.

When Ron arrived, Hermione was still woefully unprepared for his reaction. As she explained her situation- yes, she was going to be bound to Malfoy and, no, she did not have a choice- the angry heat rolling off his gangly body smothered her until it was hard to breathe.

"I don't understand you anymore," Ron shouted venomously. "Where is the girl we knew who would have fought this? Where is the girl who broke the rules when it suited her and used her brains to figure out the rest!"

"I'm not a child anymore, Ron. I can't afford to be.  _We_  can't afford to be," her voice cracked with exhaustion.

"Fight this, Hermione! Please," Ron pleaded. Unable to see the pain in his kind eyes, Hermione turned away.

" _I am fighting_. I am fighting for my people!" Hermione cried.

Ron scoffed. " _Your_  people? Since when in Merlin's beard did they become  _yours_?"

A chill fell over the room and Hermione painfully gnashed her teeth together.

They were her people when everyone decided to do away with politics, when the world decided to let leaders go unchecked. They were her people when they laid the blame for their starving bellies on decisions she alone held responsibility for. They were her people the moment she decided it was her duty to defend them against a runaway dictatorship in a radioactive world.

But, Hermione knew her friends lacked the ability to understand the nuances of her political position, so she remained silent. The broken trio were breathing heavily from the thick tension that blanketed the cramped room. This battle with her friends she anticipated the moment she signed Draco's contract, but it was not one she had anticipated them all losing.

Harry interjected, "What if we go to the rebels? We know they've been restless, what with the graffiti popping up in more places now - it's practically all over Hogsmeade. Let's fight against Kingsley!"

Ron nodded vigorously. "Right! We can have the rebels help us overthrow him, and then we can get you out of your stupid contract."

"How do we know the rebels are not worse than Kingsley?" Hermione shook her head. " _Even if_ that were an option, they aren't strong enough to fight Fenrir, and if we fight amongst ourselves, we'll have wounded our own forces before the werewolves and Muggles attack. Lucius will kill me if I fail to sign the alliance agreement now-"

"But, 'Mione-"

"You are both forgetting I signed an accord today that extended the negotiation of the alliance terms by only a day. I cannot go to the rebels," Hermione said definitively. "Besides, if I am seen with them, it could jeopardize the alliance. Regardless of the marriage arrangement, we will not survive the coming war without resources, without allies," Hermione quickly rattled off just a few of the many horrible consequences of her failure to sign. "If I don't do this, it's likely we will lose the upcoming battle."

"We could have fought all the bloody werewolves and vampires and Muggles alone! We've done it before," Harry protested.

"But we weren't starving before," Hermione trembled with exasperation. She was nearing the end of her patience, and her head was pounding. "We prepared for the war before. We trained, we practiced. This is not the same. There are rumors Fenrir has been turning the Muggles at a horrifying rate.  _And_  that there are still active nuclear weapons available to the Realm of London."

"This doesn't have to be the end!" Ron shouted. His cheeks were turning purple, and he pointed a finger in her face. "This wouldn't have scared you before!"

Hermione held fast to her logic, the only ground she had left to keep her from falling into further despair. "Among our many problems, with the muggles and Fenrir's growing army, we are outnumbered-"

"'Mione, please," Ron whispered. Well past the point of anger, now all his soft voice carried were unshed tears.

Harry let out a malicious laugh of which startled Hermione. He knew the argument was over, if there was ever an argument to begin with. After all, she had not come here with the intention of fighting this arrangement. "We're always the ones who have to sacrifice everything, aren't we? Nothing has changed," Harry bitterly contemplated.

"No. Everything has changed," Ron lamented as his long legs carried him to the door.

"Ron, wait-"

"I can't sit idle and watch this happen!"

"You have to promise me you won't tell anyone," Hermione begged. "Please, all it serves to do right now is get me  _killed_. I signed a preliminary agreement, Kingsley made me swear…"

Ron twitched in indignation. "Fine. If you want to sacrifice everything, that's your prerogative," Ron surrendered with upheld hands. "I certainly won't be the one bloody responsible for getting you killed. You can do that all on your own," Ron growled. "Enjoy your new husband, Hermione."

The wooden door slammed behind him. The acid in Hermione's stomach lurched uneasily and she tried to focus only on her breathing.

"What are you going to do now?" Harry asked wearily after a moment.

Hermione heard the echo of shattering chess pieces ring in her ears. "I have to prepare to negotiate with Malfoy. There's endless amounts of research to do regarding the bonding ritual that was selected," she stated, straightening her shoulders in a forced show of grit which her best friend was easily able to see through.

Before she could protest, Harry embraced her small figure. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. You don't deserve this," he whispered in her ear. "Just be careful, will you? The Malfoys want something from you, I know it."

Hermione nodded in agreement and whispered a small thanks before departing to begin reading.

* * *

The next morning, Kingsley walked Draco down the halls of Hogwarts towards Hermione's room. From beneath the hood that kept his identity hidden, Draco glared at the state of his once prestigious school.

There were far more people in the halls than he ever remembered, and none looked particularly healthy - dirty and thin as they were. Hogwarts felt irreparably filthy, cast in the shadows from remnants of the damage caused by their battle against Voldemort. Some of the paintings remained shredded, void of life, while the stone was cracking in places. It held almost none of the crisp splendor and magical aura it once did.

Kingsley interrupted Draco's brooding assessment. "I apologize again for her absence. I don't know what has gotten into the girl, honestly. She's usually very obedient."

Draco snorted in derision. "Then you don't actually know her very well, do you?"

Kingsley had the decency to look offended. "She has always been loyal to all we have worked for. She's punctual, and dutiful, and hardworking. You're certainly most  _fortunate_ in this arrangement," Kingsley commented unkindly.

Without Lucius, Draco noted that Kingsley was bolder, a flaw that he needed to correct.

"Are you implying that Hermione, and by extension the Order are not  _fortunate_  in this arrangement,  _Kingsley_? Certainly, the Malfoy fortune and opportunity to access our food is of greater benefit to the Order, than our receiving of your  _assistant_. Though, I'd say that Hermione will be better taken care of by me than she is with you. The level of filth here is appalling," Draco peered down the end of his perfectly straight nose and nodded towards a spider dragging its large body across a chipped and smeared glass window.

"I didn't mean any offense," Kingsley backtracked, but there was still an edge to his voice that grated at Draco's ego.

"That's right, Kingsley, because you wouldn't want to start this alliance off on bad footing, now would you? Surely, you don't want to anger the hand that will keep you from starving?" Draco asked with more than a touch of threat.

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," Kingsley responded softly, and he kept his gaze down the rest of the short walk.

When they arrived at a small door down a dark corridor, Kingsley knocked. Almost immediately, Hermione pulled the door open.

"Oh bollocks, what time is it?" she asked with wide eyes, taking no notice of the hooded figure beside Kingsley.

"Nearly 9 o'clock," Draco's arrogant, deep voice startled Hermione. "You'll learn not to be late in the future," he condescendingly snipped and without hesitation he stepped into her living space, possessing everything within it merely with his imperious presence. "Kingsley, we no longer require your company. I presume Miss Granger is capable of accessing the Floo to get me home."

Kingsley sputtered. "Hermione… yes she can access the Floo, but I would feel better if she were accompanied-"

"In a few days time we will be married, and you won't be able to chaperone our private discussions. Best to get used to it now," Draco reasoned snidely.

Ignoring the condescending heir, Kingsley turned toward his adviser. "Hermione-"

"Kingsley, please leave," Hermione stated coolly. If he remained near her any longer, the chances of him getting hexed were becoming exceedingly likely.

Draco did not attempt to contain his smirk and he gave a graceful wave of his fingers at Kingsley's departing form. When the door snapped shut, he turned his attention to his future wife and her insignificant room.

Disheveled curls tumbled over Hermione's exposed shoulder, where her large sweater hung limply off her lithe body. Books were stacked around the cramped room in various states of use.

"You've been living here?" Draco looked around at the tiny space, barely stocked with what he considered essentials. "I thought they'd give a war hero more suitable living quarters," he muttered in repugnance.

Barely controlling her urge to punch him, Hermione angrily stared up at Draco. "We're choosing another bonding ritual," she hissed, ignoring his assessment of her bedroom for now. "There is absolutely no way we are going through the  _cleansing_  ritual, let alone taking on the consequences of the bond."

Draco bore down at her under thinly veiled displeasure. The ink smeared across her fingers and her wild hair, while endearing to him, were unbecoming of a future Malfoy matriarch. "It looks as though a cleansing is necessary for you." Then his lips curled up into a devilish smile. "I promise I'll make it as enjoyable as possible.  _Our_  private bath at Malfoy Castle is lovely, I assure you."

At the mention of her impending relocation to Malfoy Castle, Hermione became keenly aware of how out of place the sharp-looking man looked in her dimly lit, crowded home. She wondered in what ways she would look most out of place when she called the Malfoy Castle her permanent residence. This alone felt too intimate, with Draco mere steps from her sheets, and she couldn't imagine what it would be like during the cleans-

"As for the consequences of the bond," his smooth voice broke her out of her thoughts, "which bother you the most?" Draco asked slyly, and was delighted by her body flushing pink. When he gave her the job of researching the bond, he had known it would cause her discomfort, and he was eager to hear her try and explain her reservations.

"It would be far quicker if I were to speak about the things I approve of," Hermione grumbled.

"We have all day," Draco said patiently. "Although considering your late start, we do need to begin making our way down to the potions labs soon."

"I'm still researching-"

"Then I will fill any gaps in your knowledge while we wait for the potion to brew," Draco retorted easily.

Clenching her jaw, Hermione realized she was out of time. But, that did not mean she wanted to give up her ability to learn about the bond, and certainly, books were far more trustworthy than Malfoy.

Lifting her wand, Hermione summoned a book bag from the closet and sorted no less than a dozen books into the bag.

Draco lifted a perfectly shaped, pale eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to make this day far more difficult than it needs to be?"

"Because this whole ordeal is absolutely horrid and I keep thinking I'm going to wake from this nightmare, but  _here you are_." The hair on the back of her neck tingled. "How in Merlin's name are you so calm?" Hermione grated out, observing the casual way his body leaned up against her wall, and the relaxed smirk on his face. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"It's fairly straightforward," Draco shrugged. "In Pure-Blooded families, marriage rituals are not so daunting. See it from a different perspective, I was  _always_  going to be in a similar situation. At least now my wife isn't going to be an air-head," he waved his long fingers dismissively. "Regardless, what's done is done. Your emotional response will only serve to unnecessarily exhaust you."

Reeling under the whiplash from his cavalier compliment and crafty insult, Hermione sharply bit out, "I think I'm being quite unemotional given the circumstances."

"Hmm," Draco tutted, with a challenging quirk of one eyebrow.

"What I don't understand is why you would agree to a ritual that has the ability to cause such harm to you. You've always been selfishly absorbed with your preservation."

"Great risk can reap great reward," Draco shrugged, trying not to be offended by the truth in her taunt.

"But that's just the thing," Hermione tilted her head. "You only take calculated risks, ones you know you will win. This seems antithetic to your own philosophy."

"In what way?" Draco took a step closer to her and analyzed her unsteady breathing with a smirk. "I get the most powerful witch of our age, whose magic will only serve to make me stronger through our bond. I potentially stop a war. I gain access to water so that I can continue to maintain the Malfoy family control." He kept his excitement clear from his tone, as a gentleman does when speaking of unbridled power.

"And what if I'm unwilling?"

"You won't be," Draco promised wickedly.

Hermione's fingers clenched into fists at his arrogance. "An unwilling participant could cause the bond to fail, and we could die,  _or worse,_  damage our magical channels."

"I've never had a woman who was unwilling, Granger," Draco smirked arrogantly, and he sauntered over to where she was crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

"You've never bonded with anyone before," the witch hissed, "Let alone, me."

"We just have to make you want it badly enough," Draco said softly. Frosty eyes relentlessly teased her, keeping the answers to her deepest questions locked inside.

" _Do you_?" She pressed.

"Do I what?"

"Want this badly enough?"

"You have no idea," Draco said with a hard edge that slashed through the silkiness of his voice.

Flushing a deep pink, Hermione broke eye contact, so as not to alert him to her discomfort of which he seemed so fond of. The suspicion she felt twisted into knots in her lower abdomen.

Employing his tactic of changing topics, Hermione murmured, "I was most disappointed to learn that what your father said was true- if either of us are killed unnaturally, the other will also die."

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held up her hand in protest. "I'm not finished. It's even more concerning to me that under extreme circumstances there are instances in which a bonded pair can feel one another's pain. In a few recorded accounts, pairs with particularly strong bonds begin to  _feel_  one another like a shadow throughout their daily life."

A deep frown appeared on Draco's otherwise impassive features. "To my knowledge that is exceedingly rare, and requires a strong initial bond, established before the ritual."

"But it  _has_  happened," Hermione emphasized.

"I think I gave you too much time to read," Draco muttered darkly. "I won't let anything harm you." He watched her roll her eyes, and his jaw tensed. "You can trust me, if not for any other reason than you know it is in my best self-interest." Sarcasm leaked into his words.

"The mechanics of bonding are not well understood," Hermione said uncomfortably, trying not to think of the intimate details of her joining with Draco. "Bonded pairs somehow have access to each other's magic, but, as I'm sure you are aware, knowledge regarding magical channels is theoretical at best."

Draco shifted his weight to one leg, and pursed his lips. "Pure-blooded families have trusted ancient magic for centuries."

With a bitterness as sharp as a Mandrake scream, she quipped, "As if that makes me feel any better." She paused and bit her lip in contemplation, thinking about the one question that had not left her since she walked away from Malfoy Castle, the source of her suspicion. "Why this bond? Out of all the rituals, you chose one of the most complex, irreversibly binding ones imaginable. Certainly, our alliance is not so important as to require such an imposing and life-altering bond."

Draco clicked his tongue in frustration, but his lips remained tightly pressed together, nearly disappearing into his pale face. There was no way easy for him to admit that she was right, nor did he want to reveal the intentions behind his willingness to accept such a high-risk bond. "Your reservations are noted," he conceded with icy conviction. "We can continue this conversation in the dungeons and you may still research while we brew the cleansing potion."

"I won't sign unless I have an answer, Malfoy," Hermione asserted with a passionate rebuke to his apathetic coldness.

"No," Draco argued, finally invading her personal space in a way that made her shrink back against her books. "You have no choice. We must reach an agreement today- you signed away your right to do anything but, Granger. And I am not ready to answer that particular question yet."

"Why not?" Hermione fumed.

"Because quite frankly, you aren't ready to hear why. But I imagine you will be soon," Draco shrewdly assessed. Her eyes brightened under his assertion that she would know soon, and Draco was certain that for the time being, he had captured and bent her curiosity to his will.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she questioned, embarrassed at the fear that bled into her melodic voice. The alliance contract made her woefully afraid, and, not having all the information to guide her decision caused her gut to clench.

Draco cracked an uneven smile, one that caused his silver eyes to shimmer. "Just another thing I will have to convince you of." Softly spoken words captured her attention. "For now, you are clever to keep your guard up," Draco begrudgingly commended.

Confused by Draco's mercurial advice, Hermione let out a hum of vexation from the back of her throat, but the challenge in her posture dissipated. She picked up the bag of books from the floor, and placed it over her shoulders.

"I won't forget my question, Malfoy," Hermione threatened. "And I won't wait forever to get an answer."

"I'd be disappointed if you did," Draco retorted, meeting her severe gaze with just a hint of amusement that made her stomach flip.

Shaking off the feeling of weightless abandon that settled in her stomach, Hermione ripped her gaze from his trance. "Don't forget your hood," Hermione warned coolly as she opened the door to lead them to the dungeons.

* * *

"Granger, will you please just let me do this?" Draco said in exasperation. The know it all, for once, did not know it all, and he internally cringed at her cautious and unsteady handling of the ingredients. The dungeons were just how he remembered them, and if he closed his eyes and imagined the world was not crumbling outside the wards, he could almost transport himself back to the Hogwarts of his youth.

"I can read,  _Malfoy._ And I'll have you know that I received an Outstanding on my Potions O.W.L." Hermione said as she sliced through the crisp skin of the beetles. She picked up her cutting board and using her knife, started to slide the pieces into the cauldron one at a time.

With eyebrows raised high upon his forehead, Draco's mouth dropped open.

"Will you stop that!" he gasped in horror, quickly moving to look over Hermione's shoulder. "You're putting too much-"

"I know what I'm-"

The cauldron interrupted with a high pitched hiss.

Grabbing Hermione's shoulders, Draco pushed her body behind his as the cauldron bubbled up quickly. A green flash shook the room, sending hot goo flying through the air.

Peering up from where her body was tucked under his arm, Hermione winced. Draco's normally platinum locks lay plastered across his forehead under a thick green slime.

Blinking molten silver eyes, a huff of frustration erupted from the back of his throat. "You were saying?" Draco tried to sneer, but Hermione's wide brows, and the small ring her lips formed looked comically too regretful.

Pulling her wand from her robes, she cleaned the failed potion from his normally crisp, spotless robes.

Draco looked at her condescendingly. "The recipe is  _ancient_  and as such the proportions need to be converted."

"Right," Hermione nodded sheepishly. "I see that now."

"Sit down, let me teach you," he responded in a tone that eerily reminded her of Severus.

Hermione took her place at the stool beside him, their shoulders nearly touching.

"Pass me another beetle," Draco said with a calm authority. "I was contractually promised the brightest witch of our age, I want that to be true, at least," he quipped, trying to smother his smirk with a severe glare. Whenever he mentioned their marriage, the look that passed over Hermione's face grew more unreadable, and therefore, more alluring to Draco.

"It doesn't say that in the contract," Hermione corrected. She would know, she had nearly memorized it last night.

Staring down at her, Draco scoffed, "It's implied with your name."

The Gryffindor bit her tongue to stop from making a rude comment and turned her attention toward the table. "Did Professor Snape teach you this?" She watched in awe as he evenly sliced up a new beetle, combining it with fresh sprigs of lavender.

"He taught me many things, potions being his least favorite," Draco mused somberly.

"Do I dare ask what else he taught you?" Hermione tried to tease lightly. She correctly assumed that Severus was a sore subject for Draco.

The Slytherin unleashed a half-smile, one that finally managed to crinkle the skin around his eye. "I assure you, the man loved nothing more than teaching me things that went against my parents' wishes. When he shared his knowledge about the birds and the bees, my father nearly hexed him." He let loose a rare chuckle, pausing in the memory only a moment before grabbing Hermione's wrist.

He cleared his throat. "So, first things first, you're putting far too much pressure on the knife. Let the blade do the work, so you do not lose any excess juice." He demonstrated by keeping his hand pressed gently against hers, and applied the appropriate amount of push behind her hand.

When his fingers removed themselves from her skin, she still felt the ghost of his warmth. "Like this?" As she sliced, she tried to remember the pressure of his hand.

Draco's nose scrunched. "It'll do, I suppose. The most important aspect of this potion is the ratios. Beetles in ancient days were larger, and therefore, fewer were needed. We must account for the extra skin that comes along with using smaller beetles."

Through each of the next twelve steps, Draco scolded the increasingly disheveled woman accordingly, commenting on her less than gentle form and lack of finesse. While Hermione was becoming exceedingly annoyed, Draco secretly relished in this time; his hands brushed hers often, and on more than one occasion he breathed in the scent of her hair - warm vanilla and cinnamon- while he was observing closely over her shoulder.

When at last she had managed to cut a murtlap tentacle in the precise dimensions, she subconsciously turned to Draco to gauge his approval.

"You're a quick learner," Draco appraised, and her cheeks warmed in response to the sultry tone of his compliment.

Trying to ignore the heat of his gaze, Hermione busied herself with the next task of tediously pressing the juice out of the tarantulas. "I had to be. It was the only way I could prove myself to people like you, and your family," she reflected. Making sure to only capture three precise drops to add to the potion, her hand shook slightly around the wooden spoon.

"You made an impression," Draco cryptically stated. He covered her hand with his and cautiously guided the spoon holding the tarantula venom to the cauldron without spilling a single drip.

The cauldron emitted purple smoke, and Draco smoothly removed his hand from her wrist. He gave the air a faint sniff, and let out a genuine smile.

"We did it," he said, running his fingers along the back of his neck.

Hermione returned the excitement in his expression with her own.

But her thrill at completing a complex, ancient potion was quickly squashed when she remembered what it was for.

The potion sizzled as Draco poured it into a series of ten vials. Once capped, Hermione looked up at his molten eyes with newfound trepidation.

"Now what?" she whispered, though she knew what was next. Hours spent reading had taught her of the cleansing ritual, and the completion of the vials put her that much closer to the intimate process of purging excess filth and buildup from her magical channels in preparation to accept the bond.

Draco's eyes flashed brightly, but his frown remained in place, hindering Hermione from sensing the uptick in his blood pressure. "Now, Granger," he held up a single bottle to the light, examining the clarity of the potion, "we cleanse ourselves."


	7. I Saw You in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together (sort of) and FINALLY finished this chapter! It went much differently in my head than what is on paper... but such is life.
> 
> Your kind words, comments, and predictions are so thoughtful, and I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to enjoy this story with me! Keep the comments and predictions and critiques coming :D They help me see where I am, and where I need to be going with the story.
> 
> Finally, I can't give enough praise and thanks to MCal and In Dreams for taking time out of their busy lives to give feedback on this story. Without them, The Alliance would not even be close to what it is now. If you haven't checked out their works yet, GO NOW! They are both fantastically gifted, creative authors.
> 
> The next chapter update will be at the beginning of November (And spoiler alert, it's my favorite chapter yet!) In the meantime, take a moment to check out my Tumblr. I'll be posting some mood boards and aesthetics with hints from Chapter 7.
> 
> Until then my lovelies,  
> AMJohnson0518

**Chapter 6  
I Saw You in the Water**

I been alone so long  
I feel like I'm on the run  
Lover come over  
kick up the dust  
I got a secret  
Starting to rust  
She said I'm looking like a bad man  
Smooth criminal  
She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before  
She said that I don't look like me no more

- _Cringe,_  Matt Maeson

**0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

* * *

Lucius would have been displeased to learn that Draco had tampered with the Floo access into Malfoy Castle. Certainly, Draco trusted Hermione far more than his own blood, though, that fact went unshared with the curly-haired witch. What was most important now was that he had ignored the expressed wishes of his father all so that his future wife could travel comfortably between her homes. With the changing of the wards, he had solidified his allegiance.

Outside the political ramifications of his decision, it made perfect sense to perform the cleansing at Malfoy Castle; the thought of soaking in the freshly brewed potion, naked together in a communal bath in Hogwarts, was appalling. And so, when he offered the ritual to be done in the privacy of his home, Hermione agreed so quickly there was no time to hide the smile that escaped his ironclad emotional control.

Leading the timid woman through the threshold of the fireplace and into their future suite at the Malfoy estate, he outstretched his hand before her.

"Have a look," Draco silkily commanded.

Unsteadily, Hermione stepped into the grandiose, Victorian styled room. The floors were a rich mahogany, covered in places by lavish dark sage carpets. She felt overwhelmed by the opulence; valor drapery, deep golden chandeliers, and ornate furniture emphasized the sheer wealth of the Malfoy family.

With hands clasped firmly behind his back, Draco keenly watched her wander further into the room.

First, she inspected the windows, noting the balcony facing an endless field of wheat - her future kingdom, she nearly laughed. Had circumstances been different, she may have enjoyed the serene view.

Only when her eyes fluttered over the tall bookshelves that marked the parlor area did Draco break the crisp silence.

"Your bedroom is through that door," he said brusquely. "I thought it best to give you space while you adjust to your new home. You have your own bathroom, of course. It's smaller than mine, but you are free to use anything within this room- it all belongs to you after we are bonded."

"To us," Hermione corrected firmly, meeting Draco's eyes with contempt. "None of this actually belongs to  _me_."

"You'll be a Malfoy. Nothing of mine will be out of your reach. I think that makes it yours, don't you?" Draco wryly asked. Secretly, the sound of  _us_  pleased him, scratching the impossible itch that had planted itself within him years ago. Nevertheless, he knew Hermione was using the phrase to make a statement; she would no longer be her own, and she was decidedly bitter about it.

"Hm," she clicked her tongue against her cheek and brushed past Draco into the sitting room. The rising tension within her was taut, close to snapping. Noting the bar full of liquors she hadn't laid eyes on in years, she felt the sudden urge to drink; inebriation could only make the cleansing easier, she thought miserably.

Following the longing in her eyes, Draco scoffed. "Granger, I'm afraid we should remain sober to discuss the contract."

The condescension laced in his words caused a prickling sensation at the base of her neck. Numb with fear, she stood in the center of the ostentatious room. Regardless of what the contract would read, in Malfoy Castle, surrounded by dark artifacts, she was never to be more than an outsider; a stranger bound to a deceptive husband.

Straightening his posture, which had slouched at the sight of her steeled expression, Draco opened the door to the master bedroom. Adorned with a posh, four-poster frame, the bed was neatly made with a plush duvet over black silk sheets; seduction leaked from the fibers of the decor.

Thoughts of her wild curls splayed upon ruffled silk sheets tore at his racing heart. His nerves were balancing on needles. Given the murderous look she shot at him as she walked past, however, his dreams of sharing this room felt far removed.

Boldly, he placed his fingers lightly against the small of her back, and gently guided her toward the bathroom. "What do you think?"

The anxiety in his tone gave her pause.

"It's...well, it truly is lovely," she answered honestly, albeit reluctantly, ignoring the heat of his fingertips. Blue orbs flashed their approval, and his signature smirk settled once more on his face.

"If there is anything else you wish to have, I will try my best to accommodate you," he replied huskily.

Hermione deadpanned, utterly confused by the near warmth suddenly churning in Draco's eyes. The poison of her own anxiety created a stiffness in her shoulders. "You're being awfully nice for someone who referred to me as a know-it-all mudblood for nearly all of my formative years."

The muscles of his face tightened at the threat in her tone, and he glared unabashedly through his scowl.

"Would you rather I revert back to acting like a child?" Draco sneered.

"It's preferable to your attempts at manipulation of me."

Removing his hand from her back, his lips twitched angrily, and he stayed silent for a long moment. Any pleasant energy remaining from their day together disappeared. Sharpened glares clawed at one another.

"Can we get on with this?" Draco finally whispered acidically. "I'd rather not waste the rest of my day with such obviously useless efforts."

"Don't pretend like you're doing any of this for my benefit," Hermione challenged haughtily, her hand vaguely motioning to the luxurious decorum as her chest rose in agitated huffs. "The only reason you wish to renegotiate the contract is for  _you_  and whatever your goals are."

"Despite how you may feel about our arrangement, I'm not a monster who wants you to suffer," Draco growled with a ferocity that brought back memories of potions classes at Hogwarts, and taunts yelled down the old hallways. Shame fed his anger, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he thought of their sordid past.

"I don't believe that to be true," she maliciously disagreed, but even as the words left her lips, she felt uncertain. Glancing over at the empty bed, she swallowed a lump in her throat, forcing her nerves deeper into her chest.

"For someone so interested in change, you're fucking terrible at recognizing it," Draco seethed, the rage in his voice was on the precipice of unfurling from its resting place within his chest. He took a deep breath and then released the air slowly past his lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit, Hermione recognized as a telltale sign of his frustration. His hardened eyes were ablaze with an emotion she could not quite place. "Look, Granger, I know this isn't ideal-"

Interrupting him with an unnecessarily loud scoff, Hermione crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. "Oh, you think?" She seethed sarcastically, thinking of the hour each day that would be spent with Malfoy, absorbing the potion through their pores to clear their magical channels of impurities that could hinder the bonding.

Draco's strong voice pulled her from her musings. "You think I want to bathe with you, unwilling as you are? This isn't exactly  _comfortable_  for me either."

According to her reading the prior night, cleansing rituals were not an uncommon practice, but this one required blood and a longer than usual soaking time as a precursor to the bonding.

"Have you considered that this isn't necessary?  _Cleansing_ ," she let the word roll languidly off her tongue. "It sounds like a medieval attempt to force us to atone for the perceived sin of lust before marriage." Past trying to sound civil, her voice turned horribly shrill, even to her own ears.

"Have you considered it's so we don't destroy our magic at the time of our bonding, just as the  _original texts_ explain?" He remarked in a tone that revealed he thought her daft.

"Rest assured I did my research, Malfoy," Hermione countered sharply. "It just seems entirely excessive. Magical channels don't need to be purged."

"Would you risk your magic on that assumption?" A pale eyebrow quirked upwards in protest, and he lowered his eyes to meet hers.

Angrily sighing, she shook her head. "No, I suppose not. Sorry, I'm just-" she groaned. How did she feel? It was a means to an end, like Draco had said countless times; a way to change the Realm. One day, it might make her proud, to have endured for the sake of the world. "I don't want to do this," she revealed, "and I can't find a way out."

A soft pang of regret worked its way into his hardened heart, and smoothed the edges of his anger. "We're in this together," Draco said at last in a softened voice. Comforting others was unfamiliar but the slight thawing of copper eyes reassured him his words did in fact still mean something to her. Turning, he opened the door to the master bathroom. "Let's get on with it."

The bathroom felt soothing with its dark tile, and white marble. The clawed tub, so large it could easily fit four grown wizards, sat innocuously in the middle of the room.

Rolling up his sleeves, Draco approached the tub and turned on the water.

The incessant tapping of Hermione's foot against the stone tile echoed against the marble. "I thought you were in desperate need of water?"

"This occasion necessitates our use of the supplies, and besides," he flashed her a sinister grin, "what's yours is now mine. Water should no longer be my concern." He motioned for her to step closer. "Granger, I need your blood."

At the sight of the jet black blade Draco produced from his robes, she could feel the pulsating liquid flowing beneath her skin. For a moment she thought he would draw her blood first, but instead, he dragged the blade along the tip of his thumb. Blood, so valued for its purity it had caused wars, dripped into the water.

"Would you like to do this yourself?" Draco asked. "I don't much like the thought of causing you to bleed."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, but Draco ignored her curious stare and softly placed the knife into her open palm.

Before her body had a chance to protest, she sliced through her skin; the sting of the blade was instantaneous. Like Draco, each droplet of blood tumbled beautifully through the water, feathering out in wisps. Cringing, she watched her blood, considered impure and weak, mix seamlessly with Draco's.

By the time he shut the water off, the air had thickened with steam.

Reaching into his robes, he removed a vial of the potion and handed it to Hermione. The awkwardness she felt did not appear to be shared by Malfoy; his steady hand and unwavering gaze betrayed none of his emotions.

In a tone that Hermione did not have the capacity to analyze, he breathed out through the thick air, "I'll close my eyes while you disrobe. Let me know when you're comfortable for me to join."

Layer by layer, her clothing piled listlessly around her feet. Not bothering to fold them - she had larger concerns to attend - she tentatively stepped away from the discarded clothes and toward the bath. Gingerly uncapping the vial, she spilled its contents into the steaming tub.

The water foamed a lovely lavender color, releasing an aroma of crisp wildflowers and sandalwood, a scent she was quite fond of, and one she had not had the pleasure of smelling since before the disaster.

When at last she waved her wand over the pool of water, whispering the incantation to activate the cleansing, she became hyper-aware of her naked body and its proximity to Malfoy. The cool air caused her skin to prick in small goosebumps.

"Everything alright, Granger?" Draco's concern laced voice nearly caused her to slip on the tile.

"Fine. Just another moment," she responded haughtily.

Casting soft ripples as her feet dipped into the hot water, Hermione sunk below the foam. The potion felt luxurious against her skin; she could not remember the last time she had the fortune to feel bubbles coating her body. She bit back a moan of pleasure.

With a last glance to ensure the bubbles were properly covering all her necessary bits, she whispered, "I'll close my eyes now."

She placed her hands delicately over her eyes but still squeezed them shut for good measure. She heard his soft footsteps against the tile, and the harrumph of his clothes hitting the floor. Even with eyes tightly closed, she heard the confidence of his steps, and the easy way he walked into the warm water.

The bubbles shifted around her, the water rising ever so slightly with the newly added weight.

Draco's deep voice broke the strained pause."Granger, you can open your eyes."

Though she removed her hands from her face, her eyelids remained tightly shut.

The vibration of Draco's dark chuckle carried through the water, where it lapped against her skin. "Is the temperature alright for you? Your cheeks are quite flushed."

She nodded tentatively.

"Are you a virgin?"

Flabbergasted, her eyes ferociously blinked open and her mouth moved for a few seconds before words finally formed. "What in the bloody hell gives you the right to ask me-"

Hermione froze. His hair was wet against his face, the drops cascading down onto his well-formed shoulders. An arm was slung casually around the edge of the tub, eyes shining with playful abandon, and surprisingly, a touch of trepidation. The mixture of vulnerability and his hooded gaze was as potent as any potion, and she gulped in a short breath.

He hummed at the feel of her eyes on his skin. "You act as though you've never seen a naked man."

"I've seen plenty," Hermione sniffed in indignation, but her eyes suddenly found interest in anything but the man in front of her. His foot grazed hers under the water, and she let out a startled yelp.

At least he had the audacity to look embarrassed at the unsolicited touch.

"Sorry" Draco murmured tightly. "Don't forget to lower your head under the water."

With a sigh, she dipped her curls beneath the warm water, careful not to disrupt the bubble barrier floating over her breasts. When she emerged, she noticed Draco's eyes were pointed toward the ceiling and she almost smirked; she wasn't the only one affected by the fear of shifting waters.

Silence stretched endlessly across the short length of the bath.

"You can't go quiet on me now," Draco teased stiffly. "We need to have the new arrangement drafted for approval from Kingsley and my Father."

She shifted uncomfortably, which consequently made a sloshing sound as her movement rippled the water. "Where do you want to begin?"

"We have some leeway with the date of the wedding, but, given the circumstances surrounding the bonding ritual, I think it's important we know when you are fertile this month."

Hermione choked on air and sputtered ungracefully. "I am not having this discussion," Hermione seethed.

"Remember, we can't use any other magic during the ceremony, including fertility potions or charms." Not one to miss an opportunity to make her squirm, Draco's mouth curled into a suggestive smile. "Eager to have my children, Granger?"

Now, Hermione felt, was a perfect time to drown. Warm water did not stop the chill that raced down her spine.

"You loathsome, vile... " but she mentally began counting the days since her last menstruation.

"I recommend early next-"

"Ten days should suffice. Since this will only be happening once, we should be covered against any  _accidents_. I won't be producing a Malfoy heir-"

"You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," Draco interrupted. "My father removed that particular requirement from the contract."

"Of course," Hermione bared her teeth in mild disgust. "Lucius could hardly want a grandchild of such  _lowly_ breeding."

He cringed, though he couldn't disagree. "You're not wrong," Draco replied reluctantly. "Regardless, it's something you just admitted to not wanting, so why bother to complain?"

Perturbed by his logic, Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned back so the curve of her neck was exposed and her face was upturned toward the ceiling. "How will you continue the Malfoy line?"

A flush erupted across Draco's pale skin. "It's not uncommon for pure-blooded men to take mistresses if his wife is barren. Just because you're uncomfortable with the prospect of a bonded marriage does not mean I will give up my duties completely."

"I'm not comfortable signing a document when I can't for the life of me figure out why you would go through so much trouble for a bonded alliance," Hermione grieved, still flustered by his cryptic secrets.

"Just as you find me to be untrustworthy, I find you to be as well," Draco explained plainly, in a tone even a child would be offended by.

"I'm not the one hiding anything. Your possible motivations frighten me. Kingsley frightens me. Your father frightens me. This," her hand splashed as it lifted the bubbles out of the water, "this frightens me."

The soft tone of her cracking voice forced a tightening in Draco's chest. Suppressing the urge to explain, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing his guilt into the steam. "We can discuss my motivations once you've signed. Know that my intention is not to hurt you."

"A politicians answer," she goaded.

"Quite frankly, Granger, before we are married, it is none of your business," he said with clipped precision, his patience again waning. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a member of the Order, and until I am given assurance you cannot harm  _me_ , it does me no favors to acquiesce your request. Be grateful I'm allowing you time to negotiate at all, or else you may have been pregnant by months end."

"Malfoy, the moment you sign the contract today, only  _death_  will do us part. If you mean to cause me harm, I want to know."

Hazy steam clouded Draco's piercing eyes. "Do you really think so poorly of me? Even after all these years."

"You've given me no reason to trust you. You yourself told me not to. I'm many things, Malfoy, but a fool will never be one."

"I can't cause you harm once we are bound."

"Not physically," Hermione hissed. "I want it written in the contract that you, nor your family, will be able to cause me harm...not intentionally.

Exasperated, Draco rolled his eyes. "If we must, but it's redundant. This bond was chosen specifically because of what it does for  _us._ "

" _And what exactly is that?"_

" It protects against cross breed binding, it gives us access to each other's power, and it prevents us from hurting one another. I'm giving you freedom to pursue your political desires."

"Yes, all the foundations of a proper marriage," she sarcastically shot back.

"You do understand that under the terms of the bond, should you not at least attempt to be open to our marriage, you'll destroy us and any chance we have at changing the current status quo."

Forced into silence by the truth of his words, Hermione slumped deeper into the water, closing her eyes. "This hasn't been done for ages, how can we be certain of anything the bond promises?"

Draco dragged his fingers through wet hair and pushed his chin out slightly. "We can't. But my great-great-grandparents performed the ritual, and their parents before them. A Malfoy would never do something so rash."

Noticing Hermione's deep frown, he rolled his eyes upwards. "What else can I do to alter the contract so you feel more secure?"

She had thought long on this exact question the night before. "I want wards on this room- no one should have access to it that I do not approve."

Draco nodded seriously at the request. "Done. What else?"

"I want my friends to be able to visit me freely. Both Harry and Ron, at the very least," Hermione added when she saw Draco scowl.

Draco groaned. "Fine, but please respect my need to see them as little as possible."

Hermione nearly stuck her tongue out, but her desire to keep civil won out. "Fine," she heaved.

"And?" Draco pressed, knowing the Gryffindor did not simply have two requests.

She prattled on about house-elf rights for a considerable time, and then about the rights of the indentured servants. In spite of the tension that enveloped them, Draco remained largely silent as he listened to her needs.

When his fingers had begun to prune, Draco paused to consider his mental list of changes she requested. "It surprises me, Granger, that after our discussion yesterday you've added not one stipulation regarding your own power."

Much to Draco's chagrin, Hermione bit her lip again and blinked her lashes slowly. Under the foam, his loins stirred.

Softly, Hermione replied, "I don't know where to begin with that."

"You want our servants better fed and paid, but you get nothing in return for that," Draco mused. Unreasonable as it was, he admired her resolve to fight for others.

"I'm not removing it," Hermione quickly disagreed.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Draco responded cautiously, "All I'm saying is that you get nothing in return."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as she puzzled over how to alter this particular requirement to be more beneficial to her goals. There were many problems that plagued the Realm of the Order, and her mind fluttered across the most urgent.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, "Many at Hogwarts wander aimlessly through the day. There are far too many people," she revealed carefully.

Leaning forward, Draco clenched his jaw to hide his smirk. "And?" He questioned slowly.

"To alleviate your need to overwork those who work for the Realm of the Death Eaters, I'd like to propose opening up farm work to the Realm of the Order. Having more help could eliminate exhaustion. Those working should not only get additional food rations but coin as well."

"And?" He pressed, grey eyes sparkling with mischief.

"And…" Hermione huffed out a long breath, "-and I want the authority to speak at Realm of the Death Eater meetings."

"Now you've gotten it, darling." Draco smiled wickedly, the action brightening his face. "Brilliance is your best weapon," he whispered demurely. "Never give anything without something in return."

She gnashed her teeth together. "That's selfish."

"That's politics," Draco shrugged. "You'll learn it's important to your survival here. Anything more?"

Through narrowed eyes, she shook her head with a frown. "I suppose not… though you haven't said anything about your own wants."

"You've given me everything I need," Draco smirked darkly, and he shifted in the water before she could ask any more questions. "Time's up."

Leaning forward, he gracefully stood, revealing the defined muscles of his chest that led down into a sharp cut of his hips. Unprepared to see any more, Hermione let out a small squeal and pressed her palms against her eyes.

"Draco!" She hissed.

The soft timbre of his laughter momentarily enchanted her. "One down, six more to go," Draco whispered as he left her alone in the bath.

Only when she heard the click of the bathroom door did Hermione peek out beneath her fingertips. Emerging from the water, she stepped a toe on the warmed, impossibly soft bath matt. The effects of the potion were tangible; her breathing felt heavy, but her body was weightless. Whatever effect the potion had, it felt far too pleasant for Hermione to enjoy. Her legs pressed together with a small shiver.

Once dressed, she shuffled into the parlor only to find Draco still wrapped in his robe, writing on the parchment she recognized as the original contract.

Gruffly, he cleared his throat, and Hermione's eyes snapped from his still dripping hair to his face. "I added in the new timeline for our marriage. We will wed in ten days," Draco softly informed her. The fear in her eyes elicited a clench in his stomach that was far too familiar.

"And the allowances for the servants? Their increase in food and wages?"

"All accounted for," Draco replied, his long fingers pointing to the passage that she requested.

Delicate hands brushed his arm as she reached for the contract; the flush that appeared on Draco's cheeks surprised her. Momentarily ignoring his reaction, she turned her focus on the parchment, reading every word carefully.

"This looks fine," she begrudgingly announced.

"Excellent. I will get properly dressed and we will take this to my father."

"We?" Hermione gulped.

"Yes. Do you trust him alone with the contract?"

Resigned, she vehemently shook her head. "I'll wait here for you."

The dress robes and shined leather shoes Draco changed into made Hermione feel inadequate; the holes in her sweater were hardly appropriate alone in the comfort of her room, nevermind in front of her future father-in-law. Walking down the halls of Malfoy Castle, Hermione knew she would need to revisit her wardrobe before becoming a member of the Malfoy family.

As expected, Lucius instantly noticed her drab appearance when she stepped into his office; his eyes peered mercilessly up and down her body, disgust marring his features.

"Miss Granger," he said with a small nod, not bothering to stand from his desk. "Are you finally satisfied?"

Red cheeks gave away her embarrassment. With a bitterness that would make Professor Snape proud, she quipped, "I don't think I'll ever be. But at a minimum, this will suffice."

Draco stepped in front of her at the sight of his father's piercing gaze, and he placed the open parchment down on the desk. Not interested in saying anything more, Lucius raised his brow in much the same manner Hermione had seen Draco do countless times. His grey eyes scanned the document with meticulous deliberation.

The scowl that expanded across the Malfoy patriarch's face was expected, though, it still caused Hermione's heart to seize. "Unlike you, we are more careful about who is given access to Malfoy Castle," Lucius patronized. "I will not freely allow Mr. Potter nor a  _Weasley,_  onto the property."

"I assure you, they are harmless," Hermione scoffed.

"Have you forgotten their  _history_  with the Death Eaters?" Lucius stressed with agitation. "It will be bad enough  _you_  are here."

Fighting against her urge to shrink away, she lifted her chin. "I thought we were starting a new beginning for relationships between our Realms?" Hermione dissented.

"Members of the Order will not be permitted into the Castle without my knowledge!" Lucius angrily lashed. "Furthermore, your request to have citizens of your Realm tend to our crops is a travesty. We already provide enough to our own laborers. I see no need to expand our operation." Lucius fixated his glare at his son. "What are your thoughts,  _Draco_?" Lucius said, analyzing his son's unreadable features.

Draco shifted his weight, and in a tone cold enough to rival his father began speaking slowly. "Father, extra assistance on the farms will turn over a larger profit, of which will counter the losses from providing servants wages," Draco determined. "Although, I believe we will still acquire more gold from the additional production."

Hermione's face tightened. Unknowingly, she handed Draco a win with her request, and she watched him suspiciously as he answered more of his father's questions regarding increasing their labor force. Words slipped easily off Draco's tongue as he sold the prospect of increased wealth to his father.

Lucius placed his finger over his lips and his nostrils flared. "Though this deal seems to be of benefit to us, you cannot have everything, Miss Granger," his shoulders straightened. "Choose; either your friends have free access to Malfoy Castle,  _or_  I allow the people of your Realm to work in our fields."

"That's entirely unfair!" Hermione griped, taking an intimidating step toward the solid wood desk. "There is no reason for you not to grant both-"

"Either request costs me something!" Lucius hissed. "I pay in infiltrated security into the castle, or in coin. Now, decide," Lucius commanded sharply.

Without her friends, the loneliness that Malfoy Castle promised caused Hermione's stomach to churn. However, logically, the decision was an easy one.

And so, she sacrificed again to better the Realm of the Order over her own needs. The toothy grin Lucius unleashed added to her discomfort with the decision.

Lucius eyed the contract a final time. "What is the need to push the wedding back ten full days?" Lucius deftly questioned.

Draco interjected before Hermione could move her lips. "The cleansing requires ten treatments if performed with a mudblood," Draco lied smoothly. The slight drop in Hermione's jaw went thankfully unnoticed, and she hastily composed her features.

"I see," Lucius responded, seemingly satisfied with his son's answer. "Very well. I accept the changes to the contract."

Hermione reached for the parchment. "I'll bring a copy to Kingsley for final approval."

"Is that necessary?" Lucius sneered. "Surely, if I approve, and you approve, this should be satisfactory."

"Kingsley is head of The Realm of the Order," Hermione stated cooly. "He must agree to the arrangement."

"Ah, but from what I've seen here, you are actually the one who makes the decisions." Lucius smiled sinisterly.

The shrewd assessment threw Hermione off-kilter, and she tried not to stumble upon her next words. "I am his adviser, nothing more," Hermione corrected, swallowing her pride. "We will contact you by Floo when we have reached a decision."

"Very well, but do hurry. I do not want to needlessly wait all night."

Lucius pointed to the Floo powder on a pedestal next to the fire, dismissing her with little more than a jeering glare.

A brief glance back towards Draco told her what she needed to know; His small nod and heady gaze whispered promises of tomorrow.

* * *

Kingsley was startled when Hermione stumbled through his fireplace.

"You really must be more careful with the Floo access," Hermione criticized, brushing the ashes from her robes. "I have the revised contract for your consideration. Lucius negotiated changes to my propositions, but I believe you will still agree to the terms."

"Lucius saw this before me," Kingsley wallowed as she handed him the parchment.

"Only because we performed the first cleansing there...for the sake of keeping the arrangement private," Hermione explained quickly. "Final acceptance is pending your approval." She purposefully omitted the part where Lucius had disrespected Kingsley's role as leader.

Kingsley glanced over the document, smiling at times as he read.

"The people of the Realm will thank us for the new prospect of employment. Excellent work, Hermione," Kingsley said, though his lips were turned downward. "However, I am disappointed that you shut me out of the discussions this morning." He glared down at his desk. "I never meant to hurt you," he admitted with what Hermione felt sounded like genuine agony, "But, I need you to remember who you work for. Lucius is not to be trusted.  _Draco_  is not to be trusted. You know better than this."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione stared silently into Kingsley's eyes.

"This," Kingsley motioned toward the world outside his window in frustration, "is something we have never faced, and I am trying to set things right. I cannot do that without inside knowledge of our enemies. This is our opportunity to get just that."

So badly did she want to believe him- her natural instinct to trust the Order was alive within her very core. But trust, as she was learning, had no place amongst decaying ruins; it thrived on dependence and reliability, both of which were the scarcest resources on earth. Draco was right, it was her turn to play the game in the same way others had been around her for some time.

"Of course," she forced a smile, her voice sowing lies as sinister as the ones she once believed. "It was a shock, but you know where my loyalty is. I will report anything of importance to you."

The satisfied smile that unraveled on Kingsley's plump face fed the anger she had starved deep within. "Excellent! We need to understand more about what they are providing the other Realms…" And then he was off, assigning tasks to his newly appointed spy.

When she finally left his office and made her way toward her room, she could barely keep track of the days, let alone her feelings.

Resting tangled curls onto her pillow, Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the old bed.

Something felt wrong.

The darkness of the space, normally soothing after a hard day, did nothing but smother her. Tonight, home felt ever less welcoming than it did yesterday; a fact that caused her body to search in vain for a chance to feel at peace within Hogwarts once more.

* * *

Amongst the clanging of metal, in a place deep beneath the surface of the earth, far from the damage of radiation, two goblins toiled away. One worked tirelessly on the making of small chains, forged with magic and runes powerful enough to contain the force it was to one day house. The other read carefully through a piece of parchment, received days before, and compared it against a newer parchment that had arrived mere hours ago.

"Should we be taking part in this?" The goblin clanged his hammer thrice more before turning his gaze upon his companion. "The wars of the outside world are none of our concern."

"Why should we care?" The other sneered in response, not bothering to look up from the orders. "We are getting generously compensated. Neither party knows of what we are doing."

"And when they do find out?"

"By then, it's likely one side will be dead- This power is not for man nor creature to control alone," the Goblin paused. "Let them battle each other, we are safe here."

The metal clanging continued, the future thrown deeper into unrest with each crack of the hammer.


End file.
